


Steal Away

by XiuChen4Ever



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Discrimination, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrids, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mating, Permanent Injury, Suicidal Thoughts, Theft, past assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-07 09:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21456016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XiuChen4Ever/pseuds/XiuChen4Ever
Summary: Minseok just wants to live his life, such as it is.  He doesn’t need some rude, smug fox harassing him all the time.
Relationships: Huang Zi Tao | Z.Tao/Oh Sehun, Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 39
Kudos: 240
Collections: EXZOO : Third Round





	Steal Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [t_dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_dragon/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Behind Blue Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18469084) by [t_dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_dragon/pseuds/t_dragon). 

> This fic was inspired by a single line in one of last round's fics. The author graciously gave me permission to take this little idea snippet and run with it, so thanks to ExZoo Fest for last round and to that author for planting this seed and encouraging me to let it grow!
> 
> The original fic is [Behind Blue Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/exzoofest_Round_2/works/18469084) by [t_dragon.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_dragon/pseuds/t_dragon) My fic isn't related AU- or plot-wise--it's entirely stand-alone. 
> 
> This fic starts off with one of the main characters in bad shape. If readers would feel more comfortable knowing details regarding the Assault, Permanent Injury, and Suicidal Thoughts tags, there are some slight spoilers in the end notes.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

“Stop! Thief!”

The cry has Minseok instinctively curling in on himself, tucking himself further into the pile of rags beneath the little-used loading ramp. The accusation isn’t directed at him but it still triggers a visceral reaction, sending his heart pounding and making his muscles quiver with the need to bolt, run, hide even though he’s already hidden.

A triumphant laugh bounces off the walls of the alley right before something slams into the top of the ramp, making Minseok jump and dig his fingertips painfully into the particleboard beneath him, changing his defensive exhalation into a hiss of pain as sharp tingles dance up his digits. Through the perforated steel roof of his shelter, he sees the red brush of a tail sway and a black-edged ear swivel back to monitor any pursuit before their bearer scampers out of the alley.

Of course it’s that fucking fox again. He does this on purpose—he knows Minseok often shelters here. The egomaniac just has to prove his superiority yet again. Such an asshole.

Minseok tries to settle back into slumber, trying to conserve his energy to maximize his own chances of success when he ventures out to forage later, but his pulse is thrumming in his head and there’s no way Minseok is going to try to calm himself with deeply-inhaled breaths. He’s hunkered in an alley next to reeking dumpsters, for fuck’s sake. 

Instead he buries his face in the rags that still smell of the window cleaner they were once used to wipe away, trying to focus on the odor of the wild perilla lingering on his hair and clothes from his scent-masking session earlier. It’s painful irony that Minseok often wishes away his enhanced sense of smell considering everything else that’s already been taken from him.

At least he still has his night vision. It’s the only useful sense he has left, and he uses it to the fullest extent when he creeps out from under the loading ramp hours later once the sun has fully descended. He cautiously picks his way along the darkened streets, eyes scanning the ground for things that may trip him up as well as searching the rest of his surroundings for other dangers. Can’t be too careful.

The tall buildings make sounds echo artificially and his nose is numbed by the perilla, making Minseok’s sight the only way he has of reliably perceiving any threats. So his eyes are constantly moving as he heads toward the docks, hoping to find discarded bycatch that hasn’t been carried off by gulls or ripened overmuch in the previous day’s sun. It’s a small chance at best but it’s the least dangerous option so he always checks there first before resigning himself to seeking a more difficult meal.

Tonight he’s lucky enough to find several dismembered starfish that landed among the coiled ropes on the edge of the pier instead of back in the ocean. The fishermen insist on “killing” these perceived nuisances this way even though the resilient creatures often survive and regrow the severed appendages. It’s envy as much as hunger that drives Minseok to cram the pieces of echinoderm into his mouth.

“Ew, you’re seriously eating that?” 

Minseok’s least favorite voice comes out of the darkness, probably from closer to the shore instead of further down the pier. He doesn’t bother to respond, only crunches another pointed limb between his teeth.

“You’re not even going to at least cook it first?”

Minseok continues his supper without reacting.

“Ugh, you humans are so gross when you’re desperate.”

Minseok crunches the next mouthful with extra fervor.

“Didn’t you see the fat hens I liberated from the market earlier?” The owner of the voice moves into Minseok’s peripheral vision because preening isn’t nearly as fun if no one can see you do it. 

Fucking fox should have been born a peacock. Minseok continues to ignore him and devour the last scraps of starfish, searching the coils of rope for any he might have missed.

“There aren’t any more,” the fox stops preening long enough to remark. “The dead-fish smell is all gone, replaced by your pungent perilla.”

Minseok denies the fox the satisfaction of seeing his shoulders droop. He continues his search until he’s satisfied there is no more nutrition to be had, then he turns—carefully, as it would be unpleasant to end up in the cold saltwater—and heads unsteadily back down the pier toward the shore.

“Drunk already, I see,” the fox huffs. “Would you have eaten that shit if you were sober? I hope not, especially when you could have nicely-roasted chicken.” He waves a drumstick at Minseok enticingly.

Minseok is glad he can’t smell the probably-delicious meat over his own perilla stench. It’s bad enough the fox is constantly gloating about his heists without literally drooling his envy for the asshole’s gratification. And while his starfish appetizer wasn’t exactly enjoyable, it eased his hunger pangs enough that he can leave past the stupid fox without his stomach loudly betraying him.

His incoordination betrays him though. He’d foolishly allowed part of his attention to stray to the dumb fox and his stupid drumstick, thereby mis-placing his foot over the transition from the smooth cement of the pier to the pea gravel of the industrialized beach. He’d have face-planted into the small stones but for the grip of the fox’s hand around his bicep.

“Whoa there, drunky. I know being homeless sucks sweaty balls but there are better coping mechanisms than booze. It would be such a shame to fall on that gorgeous face.”

Clamping his lips closed over the indignation welling up in his throat, Minseok jerks away from the fox’s grasp, stumbling again but catching himself on an outflung arm before scrabbling up the beach.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that perilla and your refusal to speak, you know,” the fox calls after him. “Not being able to smell it on your breath or hear the slur in your words doesn’t stop people from seeing that you’re just another bum hiding in the bottom of a bottle.”

Minseok wishes he were actually drunk. Then maybe the fox’s voice wouldn’t sting so much as his words bounce off the saltwater and cement to burrow into Minseok’s skull.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

Jongdae frowns and flicks an ear as the inebriated man stumbles away, no doubt to raid dumpsters and eat literal garbage instead of accepting charity from an animal. If he weren’t sure that they’d be immediately claimed by other strays, Jongdae would just leave his offerings where the cute guy usually forages, letting him find the pieces of chicken and hunks of bread he’s evidently not willing to take from the fox’s hands. 

The guy is so frustrating. It’s dumb to hang onto human prejudices when he’s no better than a stray himself. At least Jongdae’s capable of feeding himself properly. At least the fox is strong enough to face the unfairness of the world without constantly pickling his brain with alcohol. 

Where is he even getting the booze, anyway? Jongdae has never seen the guy begging—which he’d be fucking good at, given his big save-me eyes set into that too-pretty-to-suffer face. Yet the guy is always drunk off his ass, evidently without any income to purchase his vice or the coordination to steal it. Maybe someone’s giving it to him?

This thought makes Jongdae rankle, non-existent hackles lifting tingles along his spine. If anyone’s going to give him anything, it should be proper food or a decent set of clothes. He squelches the internal voice that says if anyone’s going to give the beautiful bum anything, it should be Jongdae himself.

Sighing, Jongdae swishes his bushy tail as he heads to the man’s sad little shelter in the corner of a filthy alley. He’s so tempted to leave food for him there, but the last time he tried that the guy had freaked out and bolted. It had taken the fox two weeks to track him to a soggy cardboard box on the opposite end of town.

So Jongdae just protects the sad little man as best he can, unzipping his fly and leaving his mark all over the alley to warn off any potential predators that might see a drunk human as easy prey. When he first started doing this, he worried that the guy would smell his musky urine and flee again, but his weak human nose doesn’t seem to be able to detect the additional odor over the stench of the dumpsters obscuring his sleeping spot from a casual glance. And it’s not like he’d actually be able to tell that it was fox pee even if he did. 

“Still hung up on that self-destructive ape?” 

Jongdae scowls as he shakes off and zips up. “Don’t be so hard on him. Humans can’t help having inferior survival skills.”

His best friend detaches himself from the brick wall he’s leaning against to stroll close enough to sniff Jongdae’s mark. “Just like you can’t help having a stupid crush on the pathetic thing?”

Jongdae rolls his eyes up at the lanky raccoon hybrid. “Shut up, Tao. You’re not allowed to give me a hard time about my dumb crush until you confess to yours.”

“Whatever. At least my crush is worthy of my attention. It would seriously be better if this stinky little drunk fell into the ocean and drowned. His suffering  _ reeks. _ ”

Tao grunts when Jongdae’s elbow makes contact with his ribs. “Don’t say that! Where there’s life, there’s hope, and I’m gonna show him that. Somehow. Eventually.”

The raccoon snorts. “Good luck with that. In the meantime, wanna knock over the bins outside the college dorms? It was move-out day; there’s bound to be some good stuff the spoiled humans abandoned. We can pimp out our place even more.”

Jongdae shrugs. “Yeah sure. It’d be nice to find a working lamp. After all your work climbing up the power pole and splicing into the line, it’s rather a letdown that the one we found before is broken even if we can both see in the dark.”

“I can’t see  _ colors _ in the dark. Not accurately! You know this,” Tao complains for the millionth time. “How am I supposed to make sure my outfit is coordinated properly?”

“Dude, no one can see accurate colors in the dark, so why is it so important to be coordinated when nobody’s even able to appreciate your efforts?” This is an old, comfortable argument and Jongdae relaxes into it, bumping shoulders companionably as they walk toward the university.

“Uh, because Sehun has a  _ home? _ And that home has lights?”

“Except there’s no way that pampered pooch’s rich snooty human is going to let a mangy raccoon into their fancy-ass home so he’s never going to see you under said lights.”

Tao’s shoulder-bump is more like a shove. “Shut up. I’m not mangy. I’m fucking  _ clean, _ unlike your skanky-ass walking whiskey bottle. And I’m sure I can convince Sehun to let me in, but only if I’m dressed snazzily enough to look like a handsome suitor instead of a homeless slob.”

“Why obscure your true nature?”

“Uh, because unlike  _ some _ vermin, I actually don’t love squatting in a hovel and eating out of bins.”

“I am a wild animal, not a weak domestic lapdog. And you may be cute, but you’ll never pass for a housecat. Even if you convince Sehun to like you, you won’t actually be able to be together unless you also convince him to join us on the streets.”

“Fuck off. Let a man dream of love and luxury,” Tao laughs, swatting Jongdae’s backside with his own bushy tail. 

Then the raccoon scampers off, nimbly clearing the fence around the university dumpsters with a toe in the chainlink and a leap over the spiked top. Grumbling about how the fuck did a raccoon end up with such long limbs and suggesting one of Tao’s ancestors may have been a promiscuous giraffe, Jongdae follows more carefully. He has to actually climb up, cautiously maneuver his limbs from the outside of the fence to the inside, then climb back down. Because he’s a normally-proportioned fox instead of a raccoon that someone ran through a pasta machine.

He stops grumbling when Tao’s triumphant whoop indicates the effort wasn’t in vain. The raccoon may have dreams of worming himself into a human household, but all Jongdae wants is to make his home appealing enough to entice a certain human to agree to share it with him. He doesn’t need luxury, but it sure would be nice to have love.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

Minseok wakes up because his stomach is contracting painfully around his spine. It’s the usual way he starts his day—when asshole foxes don’t tapdance on his roof, that is. He hadn’t managed to keep the starfish down, retching them into the gutter on the way to make his usual circuit of restaurant dumpsters and grocery bins. He’d found some produce that was only partially rotten, but his churning stomach prevented him from even swallowing the unspoiled bits.

He’s got to do better tonight. He’d been—well. He can’t say  _ lucky, _ but he’s willing to say  _ less fucked _ that he’d been hunted down in the spring, giving him the entire summer to recalibrate and try to fatten himself up before winter. Minseok’s spent his whole life on the streets more or less, but this is the first time he’s ever resented it.

He’d never before wanted that domestic lifestyle and he doesn’t truly want it now. He just wants not to need it, to be once again comfortable in his own body, content in his own skin. Now there’s an irreparable disconnect between senses and sentience, a permanent gap in his ability to function as nature intended.

It would be easier to have a stationary home, a stable job, a domestic life. But even as he slowly starves Minseok is still sure he’d much rather let his body die than his soul.

Not that he wants his body to die, exactly. 

So he heaves himself out of the putrid pile of rags, relieving himself over the spots where that damned fox had marked his territory. Minseok may be a shadow of his former self but this is still his spot and he’s not letting any dumb dog take it away from him.

Then he goes to the park to roll in the patch of wild perilla he’d found. He doesn’t want the fox or anyone else to be able to detect his actual scent. He doesn’t even want to be able to smell himself. And if the side effect is that his nose is so dulled he can’t properly detect many other scents, so fucking be it. Life on the streets has always been about sacrifices.

“Heya, handsome!”

Minseok jumps reflexively into the air away from this sudden threat, which is a mistake. He lands ass-first on the unforgiving pavement, electricity jolting from the base of his spine all the way up to his clenched teeth.

He really hates this fucking fox.

He sits still a moment until the lightning stops shredding his shortened spine, refusing to release the pain as anything louder than a slow hiss between his molars.

The fox isn’t even done cackling by the time Minseok manages to roll to all fours, crouching defensively as he tries to ignore the raucous laughter bouncing off cement and steel.

“Aww, don’t be butt-hurt,” the fox whines as Minseok lurches down the street toward the docks. Then the obnoxious beast dissolves into renewed cackles at his evidently-unintentional pun. 

Minseok ignores all of it, trying to keep his thoughts neutral instead of desperately hopeful there will be something actually digestible along the shoreline today.

“Wait!” the fox calls. “I wanted to show you something! You won’t believe what we found—”

Minseok shuffles faster, as quickly as he dares without increasing the ever-present risk he’ll end up on his ass again. He’s in no mood for the fox’s gloating tonight—if he doesn’t find something soon, he’ll be pushing his record for most days with no food. Not really one he wants to break.

“Aw, come on, pretty boy! Don’t you want to see where I live?”

Minseok does not want to see whatever lavish abode the fox resides in. He likes to imagine the obnoxious creature lives in a cardboard box somewhere but he’s way too clean and well-kept for that to be actually true. The fox actually changes his clothes, for fuck’s sake. That right there is enough of a privilege to make Minseok resent him even if he didn’t delight in tormenting the shit out of him every fucking night.

There’s nothing remotely edible at the docks unless Minseok is desperate enough to resort to seaweed. He’s stooped that low before and probably will again. Perhaps before dawn if nothing better presents itself. But Minseok’s line is incredibly proud and he’d inherited the trait in no small degree. He doesn’t need to be worshipped as a god. But he would prefer to eat some fucking meat instead of scraps of salty vegetable.

However, Minseok’s downright opposed to charity, so he hastens away when the Italian restaurateur’s wife attempts to serve him a plate of sauced noodles with pity in her eyes. The mighty may have fallen, but not that far. He’s still a wild hunter, however disarmed he is now. 

He may look weak, unstable,  _ human. _ But Minseok was born a predator, fierce and independent. And if he can’t manage to save his own ass, thus shall he die.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

Despite Tao’s doubtful mutterings, the sad little human manages to survive the summer to Jongdae’s incredible relief. But summer is easy, and the human has only barely made it. He’s thinner in September than he’d been in June and while he may walk a little straighter he does so much more gingerly, slowly, as if every calorie expended is precious and unreclaimable.

For the disadvantaged creature, it probably is.

“Dae, should I wear the red shirt or the blue one?” Tao frets in front of the mirror beneath their gloriously-working light, alternating garments in front of his chest.

“Blue. Dogs can’t see red.”

Tao blinks at him. “Dae. You’re a canine. You  _ are _ red.”

Jongdae shrugs. “I’m a hybrid. I see red just fine. And you have perfect vision despite the fact that actual raccoons can’t see for shit.”

“So why do you think my Hunnie can’t see red?”

Jongdae shrugs again. “Because he’s an overbred pedigreed pooch. None of his ancestors have ever been subjected to survival-of-the-fittest. He doesn’t fucking  _ need _ to see red.”

Tao scowls. “Sehun isn’t overbred. He’s perfect.”

“And you’re whipped.”

“As if you can talk, human-lover.”

“At least he’s more likely to be able to appreciate my stunning crimson fur.”

Tao pretends to throw up. When Jongdae offers no response, the raccoon’s face softens.

“Daedae, you know he’s gonna die, right?”

Jongdae flinches, then shoots daggers from his eyes at the guy who’s supposed to be his best friend. “He is  _ not _ going to die. I won’t let him.”

Tao’s face softens further, as does his voice. “Dae…” he sighs. “He doesn’t want your help. He doesn’t even  _ like _ you. Hell, he doesn’t even like  _ himself. _ Let him go and find someone who actually cares if the sun comes up tomorrow.”

“He cares,” Jongdae defends.

Tao gives him a look. “What gives you that idea?”

Jongdae lifts his dark eyes to meet Tao’s equally-inky gaze. “Because he keeps trying.”

The raccoon has the grace to look chagrined. “Well. That may be, but it’s not going to matter as long as he keeps failing.”

Jongdae sets his jaw, saying nothing until Tao turns away with a sigh to continue readying himself for his little date. 

Somehow, Jongdae needs to get the stubborn stumbling human to accept his help. Even if he rejects the fox’s courtship, surely he’s desperate enough by now that he won’t scorn Jongdae just for being a hybrid. If he has enough survival drive to be willing to scrounge where even possum hybrids fear to tread, he can’t possibly turn up his nose at Jongdae’s little offerings anymore. Except that the prideful little shit still does, so the fox needs a novel approach.

Tao breaks off his annoyingly-happy humming to distract Jongdae with a question. “Did you ever find that tomcat?”

Jongdae’s scowl renews. “No. I have no idea who he is or where he sleeps, but he sure as fuck likes to cover my marks.”

“But just around the human, right? Maybe that’s why he’s so repelled by you. Maybe he doesn’t like dogs—maybe he’s a cat person.” This last is said with a lewd little slur.

“Gross,” Jongdae huffs. “I’ve never seen him with anyone else, cat or not. It’s probably just a stray that’s getting his jollies pissing me off. He’ll move on when the weather changes.”

Tao gives Jongdae a pitying look but at least he keeps to himself any more dire predictions about what else will happen when the weather changes. 

Jongdae will figure something out before then. His pretty little human is way too precious to be allowed to waste away and freeze to death in a shabby nest of filthy rags.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

Minseok has given up on dignity preservation in favor of expedience, allowing himself to drag numb fingertips along the walls of buildings for balance so he can use his eyes to glance around for potential shelters. He needs to find somewhere else to hunker before he freezes—the broad cement wall that had shaded his little nest and kept him cool throughout the summer now seems to channel all of the night’s cold directly to Minseok’s increasingly-prominent bones.

He tries not to look at his own body anymore because the jut of his hip bones and the visibility of his ribs is starting to freak him the fuck out. He’s basically a walking skeleton at this point, someone out of a black-and-white documentary on prisoners of war.

Minseok chooses to focus on the fact that he’s still walking, still moving, still filled with enough vengeful pride and determination to survive as an up-yours to the brutal bastards that chopped him up and threw him away. But that burning flame isn’t going to be enough without actual calories and a warm place to sleep. Minseok needs to improve his situation soon or he’s going to end up the statistic they tried to make him.

The first step is to find somewhere new to stay, somewhere warm and preferably far away from that plague of a fox. He mocks the fuck out of Minseok as it is, and he thinks Minseok’s a human. How much worse will the harassment get now that the perilla is dying back and Minseok hasn’t found anything else non-disgusting to mask his scent with?

The fox would have a field day if he ever learns Minseok’s supposed to be a cat.

He’d been a fucking excellent cat and an even better burglar, acquiring anything from anywhere for anyone willing to pay the right price. He’d technically been homeless then, too, but he’d had a good life bouncing from hotel to hotel, city to city, causing trouble and then leaving it all behind. He’d eaten well, dressed nicely, enjoyed such luxuries as showers and an actual bed on the regular. Sure he’d slept rough occasionally when on a job and always thought himself a tough tomcat for doing so without much fuss. 

These days he sleeps rough every night and knows his toughness to be limited now that he’s hardly a tomcat at all. His last target had made sure of that.

It still rankles because Minseok hadn’t even been  _ caught. _ He’d been  _ betrayed, _ given up by one of the suppliers of the various gear Minseok had employed to allow himself covert access to places he wasn’t supposed to be. That simpering little serpent had rolled over as soon as the Dragon’s goons showed up at his door, asking if his master ever supplied his perfectly-legal rappelling equipment to anyone that seemed as though they may possibly be using it for  _ non-recreational _ purposes. Particularly any hybrids that seemed unowned, unsupervised, uncollared.

The forked-tongued little shit was probably singing Minseok’s name before the Dragon’s heavies had even finished asking the damn question.

So one day last spring Minseok had checked into a hotel the snake had booked for him in order to case his next job easily from their rooftop. Except the rooftop had already been occupied, and the men waiting for Minseok weren’t there to discuss the return of the ancient jade trinkets he’d swiped from the Dragon and sold to the Tiger.

They were there to pin him bodily to the rough tar-paper of the rooftop while the Dragon himself docked Minseok’s tail into non-existence as anything more than a scar above his ass and cropped his ears so severely he’s left with mere holes on top of his head. Then he declawed Minseok, paying no attention to the sensitive nerves of his fingertips or the delicate tendons that allowed the curved talons to emerge from beneath his human nails when needed. They’d done his toes as well before leaving Minseok in a heap to bleed all over the rooftop.

“You can’t be a cat burglar if you’re not a cat,” the Dragon had said. “There may be more than one way to skin a cat, but there’s only one way to ensure you’ll never again use your feline features to take what’s mine.”

“Why not just kill me?” Minseok had wheezed.

“Oh, but I have,” the cruel man had laughed. “You’ll never be able to survive life as one of us humans. You have no ID, no education, no way to get a job or an apartment because legally you don’t exist. You can no longer hunt or steal or fend for yourself. All you can do is suffer a slow death by starvation or end your own life to preserve a little dignity.”

After the heavy rooftop door had thudded shut behind them, Minseok had seriously considered crawling over the edge of the building. But that would be giving the damned Dragon what he wanted, and Minseok had never been the sort of cat to perform stupid tricks for human whims. Humans could either pay him to indulge their desires or they could stare at his ass as he marched away with his tail in the air.

He no longer has a tail and he hadn’t been capable of walking in that moment, much less marching. But he’d still given the Dragon his best “fuck you” by dragging himself away to hole up and lick his wounds. The Dragon may well have killed him, but Minseok will be damned if he gives the man the pleasure of gloating over his corpse.

But he’d still prefer not to actually  _ be _ a corpse even if he’s not properly alive either, no longer properly a hybrid but still far from human. Neither human homeless shelters or hybrid stray shelters would take him so he’s stuck finding his own place to stay, scavenging scraps and ignoring the fact that he’s fulfilling the Dragon’s cruel decree little by little, that it doesn’t matter whether he’s human or hybrid when there’s less and less of him each day.

He’s not going to give the asshole fox the satisfaction of gloating over his corpse either though, so he ignores his painfully-tingling fingertips and keeps his eyes moving over the buildings, looking for boarded-up windows, worn attic vents, seasonal summer businesses that may be operated by enough of a skeleton crew over the winter that no one will notice one more skeleton hiding in a storage closet. 

He’s wandered all the way to the rich part of town before he sees a potentially-perfect little spot. Humans that see hybrids as pets instead of people tend to underestimate them, and humans that aren’t frequently exposed to indigents of any kind never think to enact countermeasures to prevent unlawful occupation of their fancy-ass oversized buildings. In other words, all humans are a little dumb but rich ones are downright stupid.

Stupid enough to let a luxury yacht rental company (Is there seriously enough of a demand for that to justify an entire business?) lease an office unit above an “artisan butcher” (as if chopping up dead animals for consumption has any need to be “art”). And stupid enough to let “charming” ivy grow up the side of the building, allowing even a clumsy declawed cat to easily access the lower rungs of the fire escape. 

In his weakened state it’s difficult to pull himself up, especially since Minseok’s body still expects his now-absent tail to counteract all the unhelpful swaying that adds extra force to the gravity tugging him away from the metal rungs gripped by fingers somehow both numb and tingling. But Minseok was once as strong as a body his size could be and even though he’s burned through all his body fat and started in on muscle, there’s still enough of it left in his arms and core to allow him to hang on, curl his torso, and hook a heel over the bar between his fists.

And from there, Minseok should have been able to proceed in ascending the ladder even without the advantages of his missing appendages. Except that an angry shout comes from everywhere and nowhere, startling Minseok before he’s able to bring his other leg up and hook a knee securely over the bar.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, you little shit?”

Adrenaline fills Minseok’s body and it reacts on instinct. He’s vulnerable dangling in midair so he releases the rung of the fire escape, counting on his tail to whip around and help him twist as he falls, landing in a defensive crouch.

Except that he doesn’t have a tail anymore so he lands in a crumpled heap.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

Foxes are excellent at skulking in general and Jongdae is particularly adept at it if his marketplace triumphs are any indication. But even a nearsighted raccoon with a bell tied to its tail could have successfully trailed the skinny little human as he deviated from his usual circuit of restaurant dumpsters in favor of an awkward stumble across town to the domain of the privileged. 

He must be drunk again because he can’t seem to move away from the support of walls and railings but he does manage to avoid the gaze of most of the blandly-curious humans they pass. The hybrids all stare at him with odd expressions before they realize Jongdae’s deliberately tracking the meandering guy, then they roll their eyes at the fox in disgust before summarily ignoring them both. 

They clearly think the fox is out to prey on the inebriate rather than protect him but unless a human is  _ their _ human, tame hybrids rarely stick their necks out to save one from a hybrid-caused fate. The domesticated hybrids may be well-kept but no hybrid ever forgets they’re all basically slaves. They may not have active animosity toward the human race, but even the gentlest hybrid only harbors apathy for those that created a race of sentient beings specifically to exploit those beings. It’s not uncommon for a hybrid to yes-sir-no-ma'am politely all day long and still believe that the only good human is a dead one.

Jongdae rather likes humans though. Sure, they’re imperialistic assholes with entitlement complexes large enough to block out the sun, but they have their uses. Jongdae’s certainly not going to raise his own chickens, for example. And some of them are pretty cute, all rounded off without ears or a tail interrupting their silhouette.

But his favorite little human isn’t rounded at all anymore and he’s behaving erratically tonight. Jongdae has no idea what the man is doing and he’s pretty sure the man himself has no idea what he’s doing, either. 

But then the hungry human stops outside of some fancy-ass butcher, eyeing the building before staggering into the shadows beside it. Evidently he’s now hungry enough to go from scrounging food to stealing it and Jongdae is strangely proud. Maybe his little human has a chance at survival after all.

But the next time Jongdae’s night vision picks out the ragged little form it’s climbing up the side of the building rather than, say, picking the lock on the back door. He gets as high as the fire escape, then laboriously transfers from wall to rungs. It’s the weirdest little private olympics as Jongdae holds his breath between silent cheers, rooting for the human to muster the strength to climb to his goal, whatever the fuck that happens to be. Jongdae barely flicks an ear when some insensitive asshole starts yelling at his teenager beneath the glow of a lamppost.

But the fox’s entire body launches into motion the moment the human falls.

_ Shit _ why did Jongdae let this little drunk attempt to perform aerial acrobatics? Of course he fucking fell and Jongdae was way too far away to catch his fragile human ass. Now he’s bleeding all over the alley and  _ fuck _ please don’t let Tao’s prediction have come true.

Jongdae manages to find a pulse and heaves a sigh of relief. He’s debating whether it’s safe to move the guy or if he should get a passerby to call an ambulance, but his next inhalation brings unexpected information to his brain.

That damn tomcat has scent-marked the fuck out of Jongdae’s human. Growling, he leans in for a better sniff and freezes when he realizes the cat’s scent is coming from absolutely everywhere, including the widening pool of blood beneath the guy’s head. 

The guy whimpers and it launches Jongdae into motion once again, quickly but gently parting the man’s blood-soaked hair so he can evaluate the scope of the wound. The scalp tends to bleed a lot even for minor injuries except  _ fucking shit _ there’s a huge-ass  _ hole _ in the guy’s head.

But it’s not bleeding. Because it’s an ear. Rather, it used to be an ear? 

_ What the actual fuck. _

But there’s still a bleeding head wound somewhere—just behind the freaky ear-hole-thing, and to Jongdae’s immense relief it seems to be a split in the skin. Gentle probing reveals the bone seems to be firm and intact beneath it, so while the poor guy could still very well be badly concussed his skull at least isn’t shattered.

The same cannot be said of his right forearm, which is pinned beneath the man at an unnatural angle.

Tears prick Jongdae’s eyes at the state he allowed his fragile little human to end up in but he takes deep, decidedly tomcat-scented breaths until there’s enough oxygen in his brain to make a plan.

He can’t take the guy to a hospital. Hospitals are for humans, and Jongdae’s human isn’t actually a human. He’s not sure what the fuck or how the fuck but if he takes him to a hospital or police station or in any way submits the guy to human authority it’s going to be humans that learn the answers instead of Jongdae and he’ll probably never see the guy again.

That is not an option. Human or not, the man is Jongdae’s.

He can’t take him to a hybrid vet either because Jongdae’s not registered and he doubts that the broken little guy is either—if he’s even a thing that can be registered—so they’d both be turned over to impound. Jongdae’s frantic brain flips through every hybrid he knows until he lands on the Chinese ram Tao had introduced him to at the Homes for Hybrids fundraiser held over the lunar new year. 

It’s their favorite holiday because none of the bleeding-heart humans begging for pledges and potential adoptive families ever notice all the extra uncollared hybrids joining the buffet line along with the shelter-housed hybrids the fundraiser is attempting to rehome. They go every year for a free feast in the middle of winter and so do a lot of other hybrids, owned or not. It’s the social event of the season.

“Okay, little guy, I’m gonna get you some help,” Jongdae murmurs, carefully scooping the unconscious man into his arms. 

He knows it’s not good to move an injured person until you know the status of their spine but honestly if the guy’s spine is fucked up he’s done for whether Jongdae moves him or not. He’s not human so without an owner any vet’s just going to euthanize him.

Jongdae clutches the injured man closer at the very thought. Over his dead body will anyone do that to his hum… His guy. 

His guy is worryingly light so Jongdae has no trouble scampering back to his lair. Tao’s still out on his little date, damn his ring-tailed ass, so Jongdae has to clamber up the tree, lower the lift basket, tuck the guy in, climb back up the tree, and haul his still-unconscious ass up to the treehouse all by himself. If the poor thing has a spinal injury, there’s no way he’s not fucked after all of that.

Crossing his fingers that the guy’s only injuries are the two he can see, Jongdae lays him out on the futon pad that was their big prize from college move-out day earlier this year. He and Tao had taken to sharing the more comfortable pallet—it’s easily big enough for two, even when one of the two is ridiculously long-limbed—but the raccoon will have to make do with the old bedrolls for a while. The wounded man needs the nicer cushion much more and Jongdae is ready to fight if Tao tries to say otherwise. 

Jongdae makes sure to settle the injured guy on his good side, then turns on the overhead light and wets a clean rag with a little water from the rain barrel.

“Sorry if this hurts,” Jongdae murmurs as he sits cross-legged at the top of the futon and eases the guy’s head into his lap. 

He dabs gingerly at the wound, parting the black strands until he can see the entire thing and make sure there isn’t any dirt remaining that might contribute to an infection. Jongdae’s no doctor but every hybrid that’s wild or stray learns basic first aid if they want to survive for very long. When someone isn’t able to just mosey up to a clinic and get some antibiotics, infection is the number one enemy, which is why Jongdae next dabs a generous amount of strong soju over the laceration. 

The guy wakes up with a very feline hiss that descends into a chesty growl. He’s rolled up into a crouch and reaching for Jongdae with curved fingers before either of them can blink. Then he yowls in pain because the arm he’s trying to claw the fox with is broken in at least two places as far as Jongdae can tell.

“I’m sorry!” Jongdae yelps, hands lifted into the air non-threateningly. “That probably stung like hell but it had to be done.”

“Fuuuuuck,” the guy says, sitting back on his haunches to cradle his right arm to his abdomen and probe his scalp with the fingers of his other hand. “Fuck, I’m such a fucking klutz.”

He hisses at himself for a second before lifting wary eyes to Jongdae. “Fuck, of course it’s you. Just get all your gloating out of the way quickly so you can tell me where the fuck I am and how the fuck to get back to my fucking alley—yes,  _ mine, _ so have a little respect and wait to piss all over it until after I fucking die at least.”

Jongdae blinks, hands still in the air. “You’re not gonna die. And I’m not gonna gloat—the fuck kind of guy do you think I am?”

The injured man gives him an incredulous look as he moves his left arm to support his right one. “Uh. I’m absolutely gonna die—everyone is. And you’ve delighted in every one of my failures so far, so why are you playing at being super offended when you’re the king of assholes?”

“The king of—what? Why am I an asshole? I’ve only tried to help you. You’re the one that’s too proud to accept anything from a filthy hybrid.”

Now the guy is looking at Jongdae like he’s stupid. “Uh. You have literally tormented me every fucking night since you first found me scavenging on the pier this spring. You have never once offered to help me—you just show off and gloat and mock the fuck out of me. And at this point I’m sure you’ve figured out that I  _ am  _ a filthy hybrid—or at least, I used to be.” 

Jongdae’s hands are getting heavy so he lowers them to his lap. “I—you— _ what? _ ” he stammers. How hard did this guy hit his head?

The guy sighs. “Fuck, I’m so not in the mood for this. Where the fuck are we?” He stretches his torso to peer out the closest window. “Fuck, are we in a fucking  _ tree? _ ” 

Ah, words that Jongdae can actually understand. “Yes,” he nods. “This is our lair. It’s safe up here.”

“Our?” the injured man asks, raising an angled brow.

As if on cue, Tao’s voice floats up through the still-open trapdoor in the corner. “Why does it smell like blood? And tomcat? DaeDae, did you murder the dude trying to claim your dumb little human—holy fuck.”

Tao is frozen halfway through the trapdoor, eyes locked on the visibly-bristling, obviously-injured guy still hunched on their futon.

A fluffy white head pokes through the trapdoor behind Tao, floppy ears swinging as wide button eyes take in the scene.

“Um, Taozi?” a little voice emerges shyly. “I think I want to go home.”

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

_ What the fuck is this, some kind of circus or something? _

It’s a pretty shitty circus in Minseok’s opinion. But somehow he’s in a fucking treehouse with the asshole fox, a confused puppy in fancy clothing, and an equally confused raccoon who looks like he stole an outfit from the gaping dog.

His head is throbbing and his fingers came away from their exploration with blood on them, so maybe he’s in a coma or hallucinating or something. His arm also hurts, especially when he moves it, so he just blinks stupidly at the scene in front of him while bracing his injured arm against his also-sore body.

“Uh, Tao, I think he  _ is _ the tomcat,” the fox says, looking at Minseok with an odd expression on his face. His eyebrows are doing this thing where the inner ends flick up toward the middle of his forehead and his umber eyes are wide and soft.

The raccoon—Tao, apparently—blinks several times. “Your human is the tomcat?” he repeats, furrowing his brow when the sentence evidently makes no more sense coming out of his mouth than it does the fox’s.

“I’m not a human,” Minseok begrudgingly admits. “And I certainly don’t belong to an asshole fox.”

Tao blinks again, then bursts into laughter, startling the fluffy white puppy hybrid behind him. “Wait, so, you fell in love with some sort of earless manx? You’re whipped for a  _ cat, _ Dae?”

The dog behind the raccoon sniffs the air before wrinkling his nose. The fox clenches his jaw in response even as a blush blooms on his prominent cheekbones.

“You are the worst best friend,” he informs the chortling raccoon.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” the raccoon manages to choke out between guffaws.

“Whatever,” the fox dismisses. “Do you still know where that ram from the new year’s shindig lives?”

“Yeah,” Tao says, wiping his eyes and putting a comforting arm around the dog hybrid’s shoulders. “Yixing got adopted by the owner of a textile mill. She actually spins yarn from his hair—humans are so creepy.”

“But he lived with a doctor before, right? Do you think he can set a broken arm? And maybe, like, see if he has a concussion?”

“I definitely have a concussion,” Minseok admits. 

He’s so fucked at this point it’s useless to be defensive. He’s clawless and now only has three working limbs. He can’t climb down the tree without help, and even if he did escape, he can feel his bones shifting in his arm when he tries to move it. It’s not going to heal well on its own and whatever chances of survival he’d had before are nullified with his dominant arm permanently useless. If he could fucking walk in a straight line he might have been able to adapt to having only three working limbs but as it is he’s a dead cat walking. Stumbling, more like. Or perhaps crawling at this point—his concussion is making him fucking dizzy. He doubts he’d even be able to stand up. 

The fox’s expression turns fretful and his arm twitches as if he’d meant to reach for Minseok but thought better of it. Good. Minseok may not have claws anymore but he still has fucking teeth and he knows how to use them.

“Well damn,” Tao says. He turns to the dog clutching his arm. “This is not the date I intended to take you on, pretty baby. Will you give me another chance sometime? I’ll take you home before I go find Yixing.”

“Can I wait for you here?” the dog blurts to everyone’s surprise. “I-I mean, if it’s okay? I know I said I wanted to go home but I like Dae-hyung and I’ve never met a cat before. I just see them outside and smell them in the streets sometimes—do you think he’d let me sniff him up close?”

Minseok narrows his eyes. “If your face goes anywhere near my ass you will bleed more than I am.” The dog looks fucking weak. Even in his current condition Minseok’s confident he can kick the puppy’s ass.

The dog blushes. “We, um. Don’t actually do that. Not as adults. We shake hands like normal people.” He holds up his right hand, fingers curved forward over his concealed thumb.

Minseok looks meaningfully at the arm he’s holding tight against his torso. “Yeah, we won’t be doing that either,” he deadpans.

Tao snorts. “Dae, don’t let your pissy kitty hurt my pretty puppy while I’m gone,” he says. Then the raccoon prods the dog forward and disappears through the trapdoor. 

Avoiding Minseok’s glare, the dog sidles over to sit by the fox, canine solidarity at its finest. “Um. I’m Sehunnie,” he says, briefly lifting his right hand again. “It’s, uh. Really nice to meet you.” He sniffs the air, then sheepishly adds, “I’m sorry you’re hurt.”

“Me too, kid,” Minseok sighs.

There’s a moment of awkward silence during which the fox’s eyes continuously dart between Minseok and the pup at his side. If they expect Minseok to introduce himself they’ll be waiting forever. 

The pup licks his tiny lips and leans forward a little. “Er. Are you really a cat? I mean, you definitely smell like one but…” He scratches himself behind one of his floppy ears.

“I  _ was  _ a cat,” Minseok huffs. “Now I’m worm food waiting to happen.”

The fox winces and the dog cocks his head to the side in interest or confusion. He doesn’t say anything else, just tilts his head in the other direction when Minseok fails to respond.

Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, Minseok has the strongest urge to groom himself except that he’s tongue-curlingly filthy and he needs one hand to hold the other one against his body to keep the pain to a minimum. His head throbs and the room seems to be spinning just a bit and he once again wishes he were merely as drunk as the fox had always assumed. Then he could close his eyes and sleep it off, waking up the next morning on the way to being well again. As it is, he’s not at all sure he’ll wake up the next morning at all.

“Was it frostbite?” the fox eventually asks.

It’s Minseok’s turn to tilt his head.

“Um. Your ears. And, uh, tail? That’s why you’re so clumsy, right? Not booze? You don’t smell like booze.”

Minseok curls his lip. He feels cornered by these canines, trapped up a tree and pinned by their gazes, a freakshow for their entertainment. He cuts his eyes away in an effort to feel less like an animal in a zoo, idly looking around his prison. 

It’s rather spacious for a platform suspended in a tree. The trunk goes up through the middle and if Minseok laid across the floor he’d have to stretch a bit to be able to touch both the trunk and the wall of the structure at the same time. Clotheslines fan from the tree trunk to the wall opposite, supporting various articles of clothing that are in far better shape than the rags literally threatening to fall off Minseok’s body.

The mat he’s sitting on feels like a fucking cloud compared to a pile of rags in an alley, both hybrids in front of him look ridiculously clean, and there’s a stack of cup-noodle pallets in one corner along with what appears to be other various types of— 

“Food,” Minseok says, making the canines jump at his sudden vocalization. “I’ll be your evening’s entertainment and let you pick on me and answer your invasive questions if you give me some fucking food.”

The fox’s brows go up. “Um, of course you can have food, but… are you sure you’ll keep it down?”

Minseok shakes his head once and winces when that turns out to be an incredibly bad idea. “Not at all. But I’m hungry enough that if I puke it up I’ll just fucking eat it again, like a disgusting dog.”

The fox frowns as he moves to the various boxes and cans of food. “You wouldn’t be so desperate if you’d have accepted my help months ago instead of waiting until you’re literally on death’s doorstep,” he grumbles, but he fills an electric kettle from a spigot near the ceiling and plugs it in to an extension cord emerging from the base of the wall.

Minseok can only blink. These assholes have food  _ and _ electricity, a sturdy shelter in a safe spot, clean clothes—

“Damn, you really are the worst kind of assholes, aren’t you?” Minseok grumbles, curling into a tighter ball and glaring balefully at the canines over his knees. This position makes the base of his spine sting despite the softness of the futon pad beneath his ass, adding to the pain of not being able to wrap a fluffy black tail around himself for comfort.

The dog’s eyes widen and he looks over his shoulder at the fox dumping the flavor packet into a styrofoam cup of dried noodles. “Hyung, are all cats this cranky?”

The fox snorts. “They’re generally at least a little pissy around canines they don’t know or trust,” he answers before pouring the now-boiling water into the cup. 

“So you’re grumpy because you don’t know me?” the pup asks Minseok with a hurt expression. “But I introduced myself. And I haven’t invaded your space or anything—I’m a good boy.” His tail wags a bit, long white fur sweeping the already-clean wooden floor.

“You probably are,” Minseok concedes because the last thing he wants in this enclosed space is for the clueless pup to get offended and start howling or something. “But  _ he’s _ an asshole, and I hate so fucking much that I’m stuck here with him.”

Both canines look at him with shock painted clearly on their dumb doggy faces. Then the fox shakes himself, setting his face back to neutral as he pads over with the steaming styrofoam cup of noodles in his hand.

“Now I know you’ve got a concussion,” he sighs. “Hopefully Yixing will be here soon—I hope this altered memory isn’t permanent.”

“I’m not that concussed,” Minseok spits, forcing himself not to swipe the cup from the fox’s hand because he’d rather not splash himself with hot water and add burns to the list of his injuries. “I remember everything you did. You can’t fucking gaslight me.” He pins his injured arm to his torso with his thighs, ignoring the increased tingling when the pressure on the base of his spine increases. This frees his left hand to accept the cup and lift it to his lips, ignoring his churning stomach in favor of cautiously sipping at the heated broth.

The pup looks back and forth between the retreating fox and the curled-up cat, making his ears swing around his face. “Hyung, were you mean to him?” he asks, eyes wide in disbelief.

“What? No—I tried to help him. He’s the one that’s always been cold to me.”

Minseok wrinkles his nose. “Uh. I’m not sure how it is for you drooling dogs, but the way I was raised, bragging about your success every time I failed, taunting me with food while I starved, and calling me harassing names isn’t generally perceived as ‘helpful.’” He blows gently on the surface of the soup.

The pup glares at the fox who lifts his hands placatingly. “I never did that! I was always offering you food, not taunting you with it. I mean yeah, I showed off a little, but that’s because I was trying to impress you. I thought you looked down on hybrids so I wanted to show you that I was capable. That I could, um. Take care of you.” He blushes, looking away from Minseok and the pup to study the contents of the clotheslines.

Minseok narrows his eyes to mere slits. “Oh. My. God. Were you trying to, like,  _ hit on me? _ ”

The fluffy pup bursts into laughter, rolling on his back to kick his feet in the air. This makes the fox’s cheeks redden further and he refuses to look at Minseok at all.

“Shit, you totally were! Why the fuck—you thought I was human!” Now Minseok is laughing, too. “And you thought I was always drunk. You were trying to lure me to your lair by waving chicken in front of my face so you could get yourself some tight human ass, weren't you?” he accuses.

“I—no! I mean, I thought you were cute but I wouldn’t have taken advantage while you were drunk! I wanted to sober you up, take care of you, feed you better. Convince you that life didn’t suck enough to need to be drunk all the time.”

Minseok can’t remember the last time he laughed this hard. He has to set the cup of noodles down and hold his injured arm away from his convulsing torso to protect it from being painfully jostled by every laugh.

“I thought you were such an arrogant asshole but you were just fucking  _ stupid, _ ” Minseok chortles. “Oh man, thanks for that. I needed the laugh—and the noodles. Thanks for that, too.” He reclaims the cup and holds it up as if offering a toast before taking a long sip of the salty broth.

His stomach heaves but he grits his teeth. He needs nutrients, calories, vitamins to heal well and he knows he’s nauseous because of his concussion rather than anything actually upsetting his stomach. 

“I might be stupid, but you’re just as dumb,” the fox sputters. “You’re probably a week away from starving to death but you could have been well-fed and clean if you’d just followed me home months ago.”

“Ah, but I’m not actually a human. I may not be a proper cat anymore but it’s a foolish feline that follows a dog back to its den.”

“Why aren’t you a proper cat?” the dog asks once he can speak properly again.

Minseok scowls at him over a mouthful of noodles.

“You said you’d answer if you got food,” the pup reminds him.

Minseok sighs through his nose as he chews and swallows.

“The mafia is fun to fuck with, right up until the wrong guy gets offended,” he says.

Another curious head tilt. “What does that mean?” the dog asks.

“It means that when something is stolen from the Dragon’s hoard, he doesn’t believe in an eye for an eye. He believes in an ear for a trinket. Both ears, actually. And a tail. And twenty claws.”

The pup’s face gets paler as Minseok lists the removed attributes. By the time the former thief is slurping up another mouthful of noodles, the dog’s complexion matches the white of his ears.

“S-so somebody cut your ears and tail off? A-and your claws?”

“Somebody did,” Minseok agrees.

“No wonder you can’t balance for shit,” the fox huffs. “Is your hearing fucked up, too?”

“I can hear,” Minseok mutters. “I just can’t pinpoint sound direction for shit.”

“Or land on your feet,” the fox deduces.

Minseok huffs. “Or cling to surfaces, or have traction on ice or snow, or properly defend myself, or even open a fucking soda can,” he rattles off. “I know I’m worse than useless, can you stop rubbing it in long enough to let me enjoy my last fucking meal in peace?”

“That’s not your last meal,” the fox says. “I’m going to fatten you back up until you’re healthy and strong again. I finally get to take care of you and I’m going to do it fucking  _ properly. _ ”

Minseok snorts. “Look, I’m sorry I missed your awkward flirting or whatever before. But even if I’d have known I’d have reacted the same. I’m not what you thought I was and I don’t want your pity. I’m out of here as soon as these noodles are gone.”

“Like hell you are. You can’t climb down safely without claws and none of us are going to lower you down until you’re healed. You’re stuck here, so just accept it.”

“I may not be able to climb down but that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of finding my way to the ground one way or another,” Minseok snarls. “You can’t keep me here if I don’t want to stay.”

“Would you really rather die?”

Minseok shrugs. “A life in captivity isn’t much of a life.”

The fox sighs, eyes sad. “Look, please just stay until you’re well enough to look after yourself. Until your arm heals—hell, you might as well stay ‘til spring at least. You’re way too thin to keep yourself warm out there. Leaving now—even if we did help you to the ground safely—is suicide, and you know it. Just stay, let me take care of you for a while, and when the weather’s warm, if you still want to leave, I’ll pack you a bag myself.” 

With his entire body throbbing with pain of various intensities and the ache in his head drowning out the rest, all Minseok wants to do is curl up in a tight, defensive ball and shut out the world. So he does, ignoring the fact that the bedding he buries himself in reeks of fox.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

“I don’t think he likes you,” Sehunnie whisper-shouts into Jongdae’s ear.

He leans away, glaring at the pup even though he knows his ill temper isn’t really Sehun’s fault. “Yeah, I think we established that, genius.”

Jongdae almost immediately regrets his words when Sehun also withdraws, making himself as small as possible and fixing his eyes on the trap door. Evidently Jongdae’s just going to alienate everyone tonight.

Sighing, he cleans up from cooking and pulls out the old bedrolls, laying them out as far away from the injured feline as possible. His injured  _ mate. _ Now that he knows the object of his fascination is a hybrid, there’s no use denying what his heart had been trying to tell him for months. Not all hybrids tend toward monogamy but foxes do and Jongdae had almost lost his mate before realizing he’d found him. As it is, the broken little thing hates Jongdae so much—evidently his playful I’m-awesome-come-chase-me courtship displays were repulsive to his aloof little cat.

Hells, Jongdae could not have fucked this up any more unless he’d actually let his guy die. And he still might die—it certainly seems like he wants to. He reeks of despondency—It seems like he’s given up on life entirely, that he has nothing left to live for. 

Jongdae aches for his mate. He has no idea how to comfort him, how to convince him that it’ll be alright, that Jongdae will take such good care of him. That Jongdae doesn’t think less of him, doesn’t consider him weak or incapable, that he’d still want to spoil him even if he were well and whole.

All three sulking hybrids lift their heads when the trap door opens. When Tao pokes his head through, Sehun starts wagging his tail enthusiastically, making excited little sneezing noises as he waits to be able to cuddle his boyfriend safely. Tao holds off the puppy long enough to haul a doctor’s bag up into the treehouse, then pets Sehun indulgently as Yixing climbs up to join them.

“Wow, you’re really in terrible shape, aren’t you?” the ram murmurs, observing the softly-hissing ball of fury in Jongdae’s bed from a polite distance. “I’m Yixing, and I know a bit of doctoring. Will you let me examine you or are you going to claw the shit out of me if I try to touch your injuries?”

“He can’t,” Sehun reports from Tao’s embrace. “Someone chopped all his claws off.”

Yixing’s eyes and mouth open wide with his shock. “Really? Man, that sucks. Ears, too? Ah, and tail? Ouch—do you get phantom pains?”

“My ass and fingertips still tingle, especially when they’re pressed against something,” Jongdae’s mutilated mate admits. “And my ears would hurt when I tried to move them—I quickly learned not to do that.”

Yixing nods as if that makes perfect sense and Jongdae winces in sympathy and shame. How many times had he laughed at the cat when he’d fallen on his evidently tender ass? No wonder his guy hates him. 

“Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about that for you—but the tingling and hypersensitivity should subside with time. How long ago was this?”

“About six months, I think? I don’t really know what month it is anymore. But it happened in April.”

The ram nods again. “It’s almost October,” he informs his reluctant patient. “Give it another six to eighteen months. It won’t always be so bad. But your more recent injuries I can at least do something about now, if you’ll allow it.”

Sighing, the tomcat nods, unballing enough to offer his broken arm for Yixing’s inspection. He hisses as the ram’s fingers explore the injury but doesn’t attempt to pull away or bite.

“Both bones are broken, but it feels like a clean break. Obviously an x-ray and possibly surgery would be best, but I can set and cast this and it should heal well enough.” Yixing turns a chastising gaze to Jongdae. “Why haven’t you offered your guest a bath, Jongdae? You know cats like to be clean.”

Hot shame sweeps over him. “I’m sorry. I was worried about his head, I didn’t even think—”

“Canines,” Yixing tuts, smiling at his patient (who actually smiles back a tiny bit, making Jongdae’s heart clench with jealousy he hasn’t earned the right to feel). “Let’s see this head wound, then we’ll get you cleaned up before I stitch it, okay?”

“Okay,” the cat agrees, tilting his head to let Yixing examine the cut easily.

“I cleaned the wound,” Jongdae says, filling the kettle again to heat water for bathing. He hadn’t neglected his mate completely. He’d done what he could to tend do him, he’d just been so surprised by the scent of tomcat that he’d overlooked the stench of his unwashed body.

“I see that,” Yixing acknowledges. “You did a decent job—there’s no dirt or foreign material in the wound. I could leave it as is, just give you some cream to put on it, but it’ll heal faster if you let me stitch it up.”

“I can’t pay you either way,” the cat says. “I’d offer my body but it’s not exactly showroom-ready at the moment.”

Yixing snorts. “There’s no need to worry about that. My mistress is rich enough to not even notice when I order shit online with her credit cards. Let one human pay to heal a hybrid, to slightly offset all the times we’re exploited for their gain.”

The tomcat’s answering smile slips back into cold neutrality when Jongdae kneels beside him with a basin of warm (but not too hot) water, a washcloth, a bar of lavender soap, and a bottle of vanilla hybrid-safe conditioning shampoo.

“Sorry I don’t have anything perilla-scented.” He offers his own smile in an attempt to coax his mate’s back onto his face. It doesn’t work. “Um. I’ll grab you some new clothes and hang the privacy curtain so you can wash yourself. Any of us will help you with whatever you can’t manage well on your own, like washing your hair—that’s awkward to do alone over a basin even with two hands, so.”

The cat nods once, staring at his knees instead of Jongdae.

“Right,” Jongdae sighs. He pulls a set of his sweats off the clotheslines, grabbing underwear and socks before setting the tidy pile near the bathing supplies. Then he suspends the repurposed shower curtain from the clothesline nearest the futon to hide it from the rest of the room.

The gentle sounds of dripping water and soft hissing emerge from behind the gaudy fish-themed barrier as Yixing prepares the necessities for casting and stitching. Jongdae kicks himself yet again for making his mate hate him. It would have been nice to carefully and tenderly bathe his neglected little mate, but instead the tomcat calls for Yixing to help him finish up. 

The ram disappears behind the curtain. A moment later, his murmuring is interrupted by the tomcat’s laughter, making Jongdae grind his teeth and lecture himself. Yixing is happy with his fancy rich human, he’s not back there seducing Jongdae’s mate. Jongdae should be happy that his cat is relaxed enough to laugh, not jealous as fuck that he wasn’t the one to elicit the reaction from him.

“You got it bad,” Tao chuckles, tugging Sehun over so he can put his free arm around Jongdae’s shoulders. “But at least he’s safe now, right?”

“Yeah,” Jongdae sighs, then straightens up with resolve. “I will take such good care of him. I fucked it all up before, but now I know he’s a cat. I won’t tease or smother him. Like Sehunnie, I will be a good boy.” He smiles at the wag-tailed dog.

“Being a good boy is the best,” Sehun agrees.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

Being clean is the best feeling Minseok’s enjoyed in a while, so nice that it’s much easier to ignore his throbbing arm, aching body, and pounding head. The ram’s fingers are gentle and his humming is pleasant as he washes Minseok’s hair, then helps him dress, chuckling softly when Minseok curls a lip and drops the fox’s underwear from the pile of borrowed clothes. It’s bad enough Minseok has to smell like the obnoxious canine—he’s not giving him the thrill of an indirect dry hump or whatever.

But being warm and hygienic has vastly improved his mood, allowing him to endure having his head stitched with a minimum of muffled hissing and having his broken arm set with only a single yowl. The fox looks sickened at the sound but just frets silently on his pallet across the room from the futon he’d abandoned to Minseok. 

“The worst is over,” Yixing says with a smile, proceeding to wrap Minseok’s arm in soft cotton before encasing it in strips of plaster. Minseok’s not so sure about that, himself. He’s clean, properly dressed, his belly’s full, and his wounds are treated—he should probably feel relieved, even fortunate. But the cost is spending the winter with these two—three? He’s not sure the puppy lives here, which is a shame because he seems the least objectionable. Well, the raccoon doesn’t seem too bad so far, either. 

Really it’s just that Minseok dreads being trapped here with the fox.

Hot shame burns in his gut at the very thought that the greatest cat burglar to ever live is now dependent on a canine. At how he must have been followed and hadn’t known, how he’d fallen so badly instead of gracefully escaping, at how clumsy and vulnerable he is.

And at how this fox insists on caring for him anyway, because he has some sort of crush on Minseok. Or at least he used to, when he’d thought Minseok was human. Now he just looks distressed and sad, whether from pity or concern or one-sided romantic imaginings Minseok can’t begin to guess. He’d half-jokingly offered his body to the ram patching him up, not really expecting him to take Minseok up on it. But he’s probably going to have to put out for this fox to earn his keep, since he really has no other way to pay.

Being indebted to someone sucks royal ass. But at least the fox is clean and isn’t ugly—Minseok’s definitely endured worse in the pursuit of his stolen prizes. 

“Take these anti-inflammatories every sunrise and sunset for three days even if you’re not in pain, okay? We don’t want your arm to swell too much inside the cast.”

Minseok nods and the ram turns to the fox.

“He needs to take those with food, Jongdae, or he’ll get sick. Make sure you feed him well. Actual meat, Dae, not just noodles.”

The fox looks deeply offended. “I know how to properly care for my m—our patient. I will make sure he has the best I can possibly get.”

“Nothing too rich at first, though—if he’s been starving it’ll take his system some time to adjust. Small meals more frequently will be better than fewer large ones.”

The earnest little fox nods obediently. Yixing turns back to Minseok. “Make him come get me again if you feel worse instead of better. Especially if your head wound becomes more tender or if pus comes out of it—you know, the typical infection stuff.”

Minseok nods. “Thank you, Doc. I know you said the humans are paying for the supplies but you still did the work. I still feel like I owe you.”

“Really, don’t worry about it.” The ram gives him a sweetly-dimpled smile. “I’m happy I could help.”

The raccoon ushers the ram and the puppy toward the trap door, confirming Minseok’s suspicions. 

“Bye, Mister Tomcat! Feel better soon!” 

The pup is so sincere in his waved goodbye that Minseok lifts his left hand in acknowledgement, lips tugging into the ghost of a smile before he can stop them. And then he’s alone in the treehouse with the fox, who sets a cup of water beside him and gestures at the pills the ram had given him. 

“More water’s in the spigot jug—if you can’t manage one-handed either of us will help you. Chamber pot’s in that chest over there behind the curtain—uh. Same if you can’t manage alone, I guess.”

“I’ll manage,” Minseok assures him, swallowing his allotment of pills.

The fox smiles weakly, ears flat as if they’re hiding from this awkward conversation. Minseok’s not used to using his nose as much anymore but the fox smells so flustered Minseok can’t help but pick it up.

“Yeah, I bet you will. Let me know if you need anything, or you’re hungry again—I’ll get you some proper meat in the morning—a fridge would draw too much power and the company would send someone out to investigate, so we don’t have one.” He rocks on his heels, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Um. I’m really sorry you fell. And that I was such a jerk to you. It wasn’t my intention—I swear I was just trying to—nevermind. I’m just really sorry, okay? So. I’ll just… I’ll just—Yeah.” 

He turns off the light, plunging them into gloom before going over to tuck himself into his makeshift bed, cursing at himself under his breath. Minseok hunkers down into his stolen bedding, covering everything but his eyes so he can watch the fox try and get comfortable in his corner. When he finally settles on his back with a deep sigh, Minseok gathers his strength, lifting his chin so his whole face peeks out from the covers.

“Jongdae.”

The fox sits up straight, ears swiveled to lock onto Minseok in the darkness. “Yeah?”

“It’s not your fault I fell. You didn’t have to help me. So.” He squeezes his eyes shut as if that’ll help him force the words out. “Thank you.”

Then he rolls over to face the wall so he doesn’t have to see whatever stupid expression the fox makes in reaction to that. Too bad the scent of the fox’s elation is harder to avoid.

With the sun gone and the cooling autumn air beneath the wooden floor, Minseok is soon fighting the shivers, wrapping himself tighter in the fox’s blankets.

There’s rustling, the vibration of footsteps, and then another blanket is thrown over him just before a warm body curves around him from behind.

“Get the fuck off me.” The damn fox could at least let him heal a little before taking his payment.

“You’re shivering.” He squirms around until he’s beneath both blankets with Minseok and attempts to wrap an arm around his waist.

Minseok slaps it away. “Then let me fucking shiver.”

The fox sighs. “It’d be a waste of all Yixing’s work if you froze to death,” he points out.

“I won’t freeze to death,” Minseok scoffs at the fox’s dramatics.

“Maybe not tonight, but it’s only going to get colder. With your meagre body mass, you’ll need to bunk with someone if you intend to survive the winter. If you don’t want me to keep you warm tonight I’ll let you suffer, but eventually you’ll need to let either me or Tao share heat with you at night.”

Minseok scowls into the darkness. There’s a long pause while he debates with himself. Just as he hears the fox sigh and begin to move away, Minseok speaks up before the warmth at his back disappears completely.

“You can stay,” he grumbles.

The fox freezes. “What was that?”

Minseok huffs. “You fucking heard me. Just lie your ass back down and shut up.”

The fox only hums in response, curving his body to closely bracket Minseok’s own, pulling him close with an arm across his chest. He nuzzles into the nape of Minseok’s neck, inhaling deeply before humming again, smelling very satisfied.

“At least wait for the pills to kick in before you fuck me,” Minseok gripes.

The fox suppresses a laugh but Minseok feels it shake from the fox’s chest into his own. “I’m gonna wait way longer than that. Until you’ve gained enough weight that I won’t cut my hips on your bony ass, for one. And more importantly, until you actually want me to instead of feeling obligated.”

“Puppy crush or not, there’s no way you’re gonna feed me all winter for free.”

“I’m doing it for my own satisfaction and the pleasure of your company.”

Minseok scoffs, not buying it for a minute despite the lack of deception in the fox’s scent. Foxes are tricksters by nature—it would not surprise Minseok in the slightest that they’re able to lie without tells.

“I really mean it!” the fox protests through a chuckle. “But if you really feel like you have to give me something, I’d love to have your name.”

Gritting his teeth so he doesn’t sink them into the arm around his torso, Minseok argues with himself. He could give the fox one of his many aliases—except that they all tend to reference his beauty, grace, charm, or whatever other subliminal idea he wants to put into a mark’s head. And Minseok is entirely out of beauty, grace, or charm and would rather not endure mockery for claiming to be what he isn’t.

“It’s Minseok,” he admits, blinking away the sudden rush of moisture to his eyes. 

The fox makes a happy little noise in his throat, scent coloring with contentment. “Good night, Minseok,” he whispers, wrapping his bushy red tail around Minseok’s waist.

“Shut up, dog,” Minseok hisses back, ignoring how familiar the sensation of a fluffy tail against his stomach is. He’s not going to cry about it. He’s not going to cry about anything.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

Waking up with his guy in his arms feels like a beautiful dream. Minseok— _ Minseok, _ such a lovely name—isn’t shivering anymore, just breathing deeply and evenly, completely relaxed in the sleep of the truly exhausted. 

Or the comatose. 

The disturbing thought makes Jongdae’s arm tighten unbidden across Minseok’s chest. He forcibly relaxes the limb as soon as he realizes he’s doing it, not wanting to disturb the cat if he’s actually sleeping. But Minseok only sighs and shifts a little, leaning more firmly back against Jongdae’s chest.

Well, he’s definitely not comatose. His scent is made strange by the antiinflammatories Yixing had given him, so Jongdae is relieved at the confirmation his mate hasn’t succumbed to his concussion in the night. 

And at least he’s not crying anymore. That had been truly heartbreaking, to lie still and pretend to sleep as his guy’s body shook beneath his arm. He’d initially been worried he’d been in pain, but his scent had just been sad. Then tentative fingers had started slowly stroking the fur of the tail Jongdae had wrapped around the guy to help keep him warm. Instantly, Jongdae had gotten it—his poor mutilated kitten must miss his tail as much for comfort as for balance and agility. Minseok’s fingers had tickled but Jongdae had remained still, allowing his injured mate to draw whatever peace he could from the presence of a surrogate tail.

The fingers of Minseok’s left hand are still resting in Jongdae’s fur, pinning their shared tail against his abdomen beside his injured arm. It makes the fox feel even more protective of his precious little guy. His fierce little cat. His tough little mate. So broken but still so defiant, a very vulpine attitude indeed. Jongdae’s cat may have been declawed, but he certainly isn’t domesticated.

Jongdae has to pee but he doesn’t move, unwilling to disturb his mate’s healing rest. He just lies there and breathes in the heady scent of tomcat, something that he once found almost repugnant but that now is becoming more and more appealing with every breath. He also loves each steady beat of Minseok’s heart against his arm, each deep and easy breath that makes his belly rise and fall beneath Jongdae’s tail.

A movement near the pantry catches his eye and Jongdae shifts his gaze to see a silently laughing Tao making a whipping gesture as he waits for the kettle to boil. Jongdae just smiles and closes his eyes again, content to be whipped for his perfect little guy.

Jongdae must have drifted off again because the next time his eyes open it’s because Minseok is extricating himself from the fox’s grasp.

“Good morning, Minseok,” he murmurs, immediately taking all his limbs and appendages back to himself.

“Shut up, dog,” Minseok grumbles in response. Then he groans, dragging himself upright until he’s cross-legged on the futon with his forehead pressed into his left hand.

“Fuck, I feel like a bug on a windshield,” he hisses. “There is no part of me that doesn’t hurt.”

“Fair,” Jongdae replies as he sits up as well. “You did a pretty good impression of one about twelve hours ago.” He finally goes to pee, then looks up at the rafters, grinning when his eyes confirm what his nose suggests. “Tao caught us some fish—I’ll cook them up so you can take your morning meds.”

Minseok grunts in acknowledgement before hauling himself off to the chamber pot, then sitting on the bed again for a grooming session. Jongdae knows enough about feline hybrids to understand it’s more about mental comfort than it is physical, and indeed Minseok seems much more awake and far less grumpy after spending a dozen minutes licking the back of his left hand and running it over his face and hair.

The feline eats the steamed fish with gusto, making happy little rumbles and licking his fingers repeatedly between bites. When everything is gone, he takes his pills, then leans back, torso propped up on his good arm, sighing in satisfaction.

Jongdae can’t stop grinning as he tidies up from their meal. His little mate seems to be settling, mind and body, scent far less agitated than it had been the day before. If calling Jongdae a dog helps his kitty feel less hostile, Jongdae is willing to roll over and sit pretty to ensure it continues.

“Now what?” Minseok asks.

Jongdae shrugs. “Whatever you want, I guess—we’ve got a few books, some manhwa, there’s a Go set somewhere—”

“Yeah, okay, stop. God, I spent every waking moment trying to find food or shelter for the last six months—I do  _ not _ want to hear about how you were up here playing  _ games. _ I meant, what are you going to do while I sleep off the rest of this concussion?”

“Oh. Um. Well. I wasn’t going to go off and leave you alone.”

Minseok blinks at him with huge feline eyes that make Jongdae feel stupid for ever believing him to be human. 

“So you’re just going to sit there and creepily watch me sleep?” 

Jongdae feels his face heat. “Or I could cuddle you some more?”

The feline scowls, then sighs. “I guess if I’m going to let you fuck me, better get used to you on top of me.” Scent sour, he curls up in a very defensive-looking ball, eying Jongdae warily.

“Yeah, okay, I shouldn’t have said that last night, I’m sorry,” Jongdae says, shoulders slumped. “I’m not gonna—I don’t want you to… Look. I know you don’t believe me—you have no reason to—but I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

Jongdae crawls over to the futon, tucking all the blankets around the ball of bitter kitty until only those suspicious eyes are exposed. Minseok hisses a little while he does this but doesn’t move or otherwise object, and Jongdae has to fight not to drop a kiss on the now-blanket-covered top of his head.

“There. You’ll be plenty warm like that and Tao will be back soon—he likes to have a nap during the brightest part of the day. He’s stupid in love with his pretty puppy but he’d keep you warm if you asked—he and I have curled up together in the cold a lot and he’s stupid tall so he wraps around nicely. He just sleep-talks in Chinese sometimes—”

“If he has that naive little puppy wrapped around his finger, why doesn’t he just live wherever the pup does?”

Jongdae frowns. “Because Sehunnie hasn’t asked him to? Sehun’s owner hasn’t met Tao yet—from what I understand he’s rich and fancy and wouldn’t tolerate a trash panda living in his house, even one as sweet as Taozi.”

“But that’s where you get all these fancy clothes? And the food?”

Brow furrowed, Jongdae tilts his head to the side. “No? We’ve swiped all this stuff.”

“But why? Won’t the puppy buy shit for you?”

“He probably would, but we do alright.”

There’s a rather long silence while the eyes beneath the blankets blink repeatedly. “Then… why bother hooking the dog in the first place?”

“Hooking?”

“You know—hook a mark, then reel him in?”

Jongdae’s ears prick with sudden understanding. “Oh. He’s not a mark. They’re just in love.”

Minseok snickers derisively. “No, but really.”

“Really!” Jongdae insists. “Tao’s not using him. He wants to impress Sehunnie—he’s the one giving the pup presents and stuff, not the other way around.”

More silence as the scent of suspicion lingers. “Well, that’s just fucking stupid.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Of course you do,” Minseok mutters, then wraps himself tighter in the blankets and closes his eyes.

Heart aching for his cynical little tomcat, Jongdae settles down against the opposite wall. Then he does indeed watch Minseok sleep, every deep breath the cat takes feeling like oxygen filling Jongdae’s own lungs.

His mate is in his den. He’s taking care of him. That’s half the battle, isn’t it? And Jongdae has all winter to convince his mate not to leave in the spring. He can’t bear to watch Minseok walk away, so Jongdae must prove the sincerity of his feelings toward his precious kitty. Surely he’ll stick around if he understands Jongdae truly loves him, that they’re meant to be together, that Jongdae will never love anyone else.

Surely he’ll stay.

Won’t he?

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

For the first time since before he’d been chopped up on a rooftop and left to die, Minseok goes to sleep comfortably every night. His belly is always full. He’s always nice and warm. His head and arm stop hurting all the time. He even has entertainment in the form of all the stashed books and games the fox and raccoon have accumulated, and the fox keeps bringing him more. 

Minseok would be fine with this, except for one thing.

The fox won’t accept any form of payment—sex, chores, promises for the future—and worse, the damn fox keeps being really fucking nice to Minseok. There’s nothing in his scent that indicates any type of subterfuge or misdirection, nothing suspicious in his mannerisms, no signs of deception at all.

It’s creepy.

The fox gives Minseok all the nicest bits of meat (that Minseok has done nothing to help acquire, prepare, or serve). He gives Minseok space during the day, but as soon as the sun goes down, he cuddles close to keep him warm. He even helps Minseok bathe, but his eyes and hands never stray anywhere close to impolite. Minseok is on edge all the time waiting for the other shoe to drop.

For the twenty-seventh night in a row, Minseok is wrapped up in toned arms and a bushy tail, then the back of his neck is sniffed deeply before the fox lets out a contented sigh and fills the air with his satisfied scent. It’s just weird and Minseok can’t stand it anymore.

He rolls over in the fox’s grasp until he’s facing the surprised guy, glaring his fiercest. “What the fuck is your deal? Why are you actually being this way? ‘Your own satisfaction?’ What does that even mean?”

The fox doesn’t look the least bit abashed. “I like you. I like having you here.”

“But you won’t fuck me.”

“Not because I’m not interested. But I respect you—I’m not going to take advantage. If I get to have you—or get to be had by you, I’m not picky—it’s going to be because you want me, pure and simple. Not because you owe me or I’m convenient or anything else. And if you never want me, well. I hope to influence that, but…” The fox shrugs.

Minseok glares. “Not buying it. I don’t care how innocuous you smell. You must want  _ something _ from me.”

“I want you to like me as much as I like you.” 

The fox’s scent doesn’t even waver. Minseok curls a lip.

“That’s disgusting.”

Laughter is the fox’s only response, still entirely unashamed. “I used to mock Taozi for being gross with Sehun but now I’m evidently just as bad.”

“You’re both idiots. That raccoon could be sleeping in an actual house with that hot little pup keeping him warm but he curls up on some shitty bedrolls in a fucking treehouse instead. What for? Because he’s the one doing the courting? How is that at all reasonable when he’s the one that’s fucking homeless? Even if the raccoon is truly ‘in love’ with the dog, doesn’t the dog love him back enough to ensure the ring-tailed idiot doesn’t freeze his pointy black ears off out here?”

Minseok interrupts the fox’s continuing laughter by poking him in the chest. “And you—all this stuff about liking and respect when I’ve given you no reason to feel either of those things toward me. I have been a miserable, bitter, incapable piece of crumpled garbage since we met but for some reason you’re set on wooing me? Seriously, fox—what the actual fuck?”

The fox’s indulgent smile is infuriating, as is the choking scent of fondness. “You’re so hard on the guy I’m trying to woo. You’re not garbage—you’re my fierce tomcat.”

“I am neither of those things,” Minseok dismisses, more and more sure that if the fox isn’t deceptive he must be delusional. Is it possible to scent mental illness? Minseok’s not sure he’s ever encountered anyone truly crazy before.

“You are both of those things, even if you need a bit of help at the moment. You’ll be well again soon, and then this old fox will teach you some new tricks.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m older than you. And I  _ know _ all the tricks—I just can’t fucking  _ do _ them anymore.”

“You know  _ cat  _ tricks, and Yixing said you’ll adjust—I’m sure you’ll be able to use plenty of them again. There are cat hybrids born without tails, after all, and they’re still agile.”

“There are no cat hybrids born without ears. Or claws. Without knowing where a suspicious sound is coming from, I’m just going to fuck up again and get caught, and I can hardly defend myself. I am basically the opposite of a fierce tomcat, you moron—thanks so much for reminding me.”

Minseok tries to slug the fox but the infuriating creature catches his hand, further proving the un-tomcat’s point.

“That’s why you need new tricks—fox tricks and human tricks. Plenty of hybrids can defend themselves without sharp feline claws—they use the body parts they do have. Zitao knows a bunch of wushu to make up for his short, brittle claws, and I, well, I know Zitao.” The fox smirks.

“It’s still nice to know from which direction you’re being attacked.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” the fox says, face suddenly serious. “I think that if we made you some prosthetic ear flaps on like a headband or something, that should be enough to let you pinpoint sounds well again.”

“Fake ears wouldn’t swivel, you idiot—unless you think you’re somehow turning me into a cyborg.”

“Human ears don’t move, either,” Jongdae points out. “And yeah, they’re not as good as the ones hybrids are born with. But they can still locate sound even if it’s not as acutely as you’re used to. It’ll take some adjustment to learn to interpret from static ears, but once you get used to it, wouldn’t it be better than no ears at all?”

Minseok scowls, ignoring the uncomfortable question in favor of ridicule. “How exactly do you think you’re convincing me that I’m still a cat by making me hear and defend myself like a mere human?”

“Because cats are adaptable and opportunistic, and being able to pass as a mere human could be a big perk if you let it.”

The fox’s golden irises reflect enough light that their excitement is clear even if the air wasn’t flavored with vulpine satisfaction. Minseok hisses but the sound dissolves as his brain rolls scenario after scenario through the theater of his mind.

“Now you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” the fox gloats. “Obviously you miss what you once had—it makes my soul hurt that someone would be so cruel to you as to try to cut away your very identity. But you’re still you—if you were brave and cunning enough to steal trinkets from some mafia boss, surely you’re brave and cunning enough to turn your disadvantage into an opportunity.”

He smells so pleased with himself and Minseok finally sees why the fox would heal him up and keep him around. The grinning trickster does indeed want to exploit Minseok’s body, just not in the way he’d originally thought.

“So, what, you want me to be your little human decoy while you and the raccoon make off with the goods behind the mark’s back?”

The fox rolls his eyes. “You always reek of suspicion! I’d love to work with you, of course, but not to use you. To make a life with you. To be successful  _ together. _ As partners.”

When Minseok only eyes him warily, the fox huffs. “Look, I’m sure you didn’t wake up one day, try to steal whatever from some crime lord, get caught, and get mutilated. You don’t have to tell me anything about your past if you don’t want to, but I bet you had many more successes leading up to that one horrific failure.”

“I didn’t  _ fail,” _ Minseok spits. “I was fucking  _ betrayed.” _

“See?” the fox grins wide, lips curled and sharp teeth on display. “I bet you were really good, which is why you’re taking it so hard that you’re not anymore. But you could be!” he quickly adds in response to Minseok’s defensive growl. “You could be great. Tao and I are amateurs—we do alright for ourselves, but he wants to spoil a pup that’s already used to being spoiled and I, well. I want to have enough to sleep in a hotel during the worst of the winter. And occasionally in the summer, just to take a real shower. To watch humans do dumb things on TV.” 

“Hybrids can’t book hotel rooms,” Minseok says, taking a sick pleasure in ruining the fox’s dream. 

All his previous hotel rooms had been booked for him by his clients or via underground brokers, the kind of shady humans that would take hybrid cash in return for using their identities to procure what hybrids are lawfully denied.

“Which is why it wasn’t worth stealing more than what we needed to build and outfit this place and feed ourselves,” the fox nods. “But  _ humans _ can book hotel rooms, buy things from shops, even take their pet hybrids to grooming shops or pet-friendly restaurants, have them fitted for clothes that actually have the tail hole in them already, walk around freely in public without being yelled at and chased away from respectable businesses, all without having to produce an ID to prove their human as long as they can pay in cash.”

“I see. So this is why you wanted to coax a drunk human to follow you home—were you planning to provide alcohol in return for these owner-impersonation services? Or was seducing me the plan all along?”

The scent of triumph wafting from the fox quickly withers into that of sorrow. “Ah, of course you’d see it that way,” he mumbles. “Look, I will happily do the best I can to provide for us both for the rest of our lives even if you don’t ever want to help me. You can lounge here all day long and be my pampered kitty if that’s what you want, I honestly don’t care. I don’t need your skills to take care of us. I don’t need your body in payment. I’m not interested in using you in any way—even the thought of it sickens me.” 

Those umber eyes hold him captive, somehow so intense even though Minseok can barely see them in the darkness. “Minseok. All I want from you is to stay with me. Or to let me follow when you leave in the spring. I just… I just want to be near you, even if you never care for me in the same way.”

Minseok slides his head back on his neck as if doing so will let him see the fox’s motives more clearly. “Why?” he asks, not bothering to hide his suspicion or disdain. “There is no reason for you to burden yourself like that, even if you fancy yourself in love or whatever. You’ll get over it—there are other humans,  _ real _ humans, that would happily let you warm their bed in exchange for a little pampering. Hell, with your looks you wouldn’t have any trouble getting yourself adopted if you want a human that badly.”

“I don’t want a human,” the fox protests, voice on the edge of a snarl. “I want my fierce tomcat. I want  _ you.” _

“Why?” Minseok asks again. “It’d be so much easier to just seduce someone else.”

“There is no one else,” Jongdae sighs, scent tinged with resignation. “You’re my mate. I know that’s not a cat thing, I know you’ll never really understand, I know you can just walk away and never look back, that I fucked everything up from the very beginning, that I was truly an idiot not to realize right away you weren’t some random human, not to realize right away you were my one and only mate. But I can’t just walk away, won’t leave you unless you insist and even then I’ll pine for you like an idiot. For me, there is only ever you, Minseok.”

“Your… mate?” Of all the possible explanations, this was not one Minseok had at all expected.

“Yeah, my mate.” The fox’s voice is as sharp and defensive as his scent. “Is that enough of a cold, rational reason that you can accept I’m not trying to play you somehow?”

“But why?” Minseok persists. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“Because it’s so lame,” the fox whines, intense eyes disappearing beneath squeezed-shut lids. “You have me by the balls, Min, and I get zero choice about it. I don’t want to be taken advantage of, either, but my dumb doggy DNA makes me want to do anything for you. And you see everyone else as things to be used, taken advantage of, exploited, so now that you know, you’re gonna make me suffer and I’m gonna be grateful as long as I can stay near you.”

He opens his eyes again, looking sheepishly at Minseok through stupidly long lashes. “I wasn’t going to tell you—I was hoping that you’d relax, that I could convince you to fall in love with me or that we’d at least become friends. But it’s been a month and you are still just as suspicious of me as ever and your arm is almost healed. I feel like I’m reinforcing that suspicion by hoping the snows will come before then so that you’ll be stuck here with me, but you’re so stubborn I would be unsurprised if you just fucked off into a blizzard one night and I’d never even know if you were alive or not.”

The fox flops over to lie panting on his back after this surprising rant, leaving Minseok to blink at him and inhale the thick scent of frustration. Except none of it is coming from Minseok himself—on the contrary, he can feel his anti-fox sentiments start to fracture in the face of this new information.

The big question is: What is Minseok going to do about this? 

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

For the longest time Jongdae can feel Minseok staring at him. He feels more than a little like some bug being scrutinized before being pounced on and eaten but at least the cat’s scent doesn’t smell triumphant. It does smell a little predatory though, curiosity tinged with a curl of interest. 

Then Minseok triggers a rush of longing and confusion by calling Jongdae by his name. It’s only the second time ever that he’s done so, the first being the begrudging but sincere thanks he’d expressed the first night he’d spent in the treehouse. He smells sincere again now, so Jongdae stops covering his face with his arm and instead rolls back to look attentively at his tomcat, pupils wide in the dark.

Minseok’s eyes flick over Jongdae’s face. Then he suddenly nods, immediately leaning in to press his lips to Jongdae’s own. It’s just for a second or two, then Minseok pulls back, studying Jongdae’s face again.

“Don’t toy with me,” Jongdae whines.

For the first time, a genuine smile breaks over Minseok’s face in direct response to something Jongdae has said. “Now who’s suspicious?” he chides. 

Jongdae loves that smile, his own lips stretching to mirror it without conscious thought. And Jongdae can’t possibly be more vulnerable than he already is, so he leans back in, recapturing those full lips, making his interest and appreciation clear before he lets his mate once again separate their mouths.

“Hmm,” Minseok says. 

Jongdae snorts. “‘Hmm?’ That’s it? I lay my heart out for you and all you have to say is ‘hmm?’”

Minseok laughs. It’s a glorious sound and Jongdae’s chest squeezes beneath the weight of all the things he’d do to hear it again and again.

“Jongdae,” Minseok says again, his name never sounding so good as it does in the burred indigo of the tomcat’s voice. “I dislike being used. But I also dislike being useless. I especially hate not being in control of my own life, my own future. Being dependent. Owing someone, especially when I despair of ever being able to repay.”

Jongdae nods. “I understand all of that. But that’s not how it is between us. I know you’ll heal and adapt and eventually be able to repay, but I don’t care. And I know you’re not weak or helpless even now. You don’t need me to fuss over you, but I don’t care about that either. You’re my mate and I’d want to take care of you regardless.”

Minseok nods back. “You’re right—that’s super lame. As I said, I hate not being in control of my own destiny—it fucking sucks to be you that your eyes landed on someone you thought was a human and a drunk, yet your instincts said ‘that’s the one, Romeo—ride or die.’”

He smiles in response to Jongdae’s snort. “And you’re right that I don’t get it. Monogamy is so not a feline concept, much less following someone around and seeking their approval. But I do get that it’s a powerful instinct outside of your direct control. And I am willing to believe you’re not lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

Minseok’s smile broadens, showing off pretty pink gums above sharp canines. “So that’s great!”

Jongdae’s brow furrows. “You think it’s great? That you’re my mate?”

The tomcat nods. “That means we’re both stuck.”

Any rising hope is squashed back into a shapeless lump. “Oh. You’re willing to trust that I won’t take advantage of you because I’m just as vulnerable to being used as you are?”

Minseok nods again.

Jongdae frowns. “But you’re only vulnerable temporarily. I’ll help you get back on your feet and then you’ll leave me behind—or just stick around and exploit the fuck out of me.”

“I didn’t say it was great for  _ you.” _

Jongdae’s growl of frustration isn’t loud enough to drown out Minseok’s laughter. But then Minseok’s lips are pressed against his scowl, a little rough from being chewed on while the cat frets but still appealing enough that Jongdae has to stop himself from leaning in and kissing back. Instead he pulls away, burying the lower half of his face in the crook of his elbow with a whine.

“Oh, come on—I thought you were dying to get a piece of this as long as I wasn’t trying to pay you off with ass.”

“I wanted you to fall in love with me—not turn the tables and use me instead.”

“Picky, picky,” Minseok chides. “I might still fall in love with you if you fuck me well enough.”

Jongdae’s whine is wordless as Minseok laughs.

“You’re the new king of the assholes,” Jongdae declares, flopping onto his back and wrapping his arms around his own torso.

“Ooh, does that mean I get to have your asshole?”

“No.”

“Your loss. Word is I’m the king of the assholes, so you’d probably have a good time.”

“I doubt that—you’re probably a very selfish top.”

“Everyone’s ultimately responsible for their own pleasure,” Minseok dismisses. “But I don’t mind giving a guy a hand when I’m inside him.”

“I knew it—selfish.”

“And I suppose you only top to bring pleasure to your partner?”

“I’m not saying that, either. I’m just saying that when the people involved actually  _ like _ each other, it’s more fun no matter who sticks what where.”

Minseok’s laugh is harsh this time, grating over Jongdae’s heartstrings. “Well, evidently neither of us will get to enjoy such an experience—you’re hardly gonna fuck anyone but me if I’m your mate, and it doesn’t matter if you like me or not—your dumb doggy DNA says you want me anyway. And you’re also not going to let me fuck anyone unless I manage to actually leave your bush-tailed ass which isn’t going to happen until spring at the earliest. I’m not excited about the prospect of going an entire year without fucking anything but my own fist—an ironic fate for the new king of the assholes that he can’t get any.” 

The bitter little kitty rolls to give Jongdae his back. Jongdae sighs, already regretting what he’s about to say.

“Minseok. You can fuck me if you want.”

A derisive snort. “You know, you’re absolutely right—the offer has zero appeal if done begrudgingly. Just be a good little space heater and shut up.”

“Then fuck someone else if you really don’t want me. I’m not going to say I don’t mind—of course I do—but fuck this mate bullshit. We—” Jongdae’s voice threatens to break but he swallows and fights it back down. “We don’t have to live our lives beholden to that shit. Just… fuck whoever you want. I’m certainly going to.”

Jongdae aims for a flippant tone and thinks he pulls it off pretty well considering that the only guy he’ll ever again want to fuck would prefer Jongdae fuck right off.

The cat freezes, sniffing the air. He half-rolls over, enough to twist his head around and give Jongdae a quizzical look.

“Huh. So it  _ is _ scentable when you lie.” He blinks at Jongdae two or three times between studious gazing. Then he rolls back over, curling into his customary ball of displeasure.

“Good to know,” Minseok mutters before ignoring Jongdae completely.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

The winter drags on. Minseok’s arm heals. Yixing returns to remove the cast and feel the slightly-atrophied limb, pronouncing it “probably healed, which is as much as I can state without an x-ray” and giving Minseok a list of exercises to do in order to rebuild his strength slowly so as not to overstress the just-healed bones.

Zitao, the only non-idiot in the treehouse, spends more and more time with Sehunnie, until a few days before Christmas he announces that he’s moving in.

“Junmyeon-gege is really nice! He thinks I’m cute and he thinks Sehun and I are cute together. He doesn’t even want in on it even though he was all about fucking Sehun before. I guess he’s got this new boyfriend—he wants me to teach him all these romantic Mandarin phrases so I guess this dude’s Chinese or something…”

Which leaves Minseok either alone with Jongdae or alone entirely when Jongdae goes out to forage for food. The fox still brings Minseok little presents along with sustenance—manhwa swiped from newsstands, puzzle sheets printed off at the library on a stolen access card, even a portable game system lifted from a sleeping punk on a crowded train. Jongdae presents these items without fanfare, smelling of resignation rather than hope.

With the windows shut tight against the winter winds, the whole fucking treehouse reeks of resignation.

“I don’t hate you,” Minseok points out one silent evening when he can’t take the gloom anymore. “I don’t even dislike you. I just haven’t known you long, and—”

“We’ve been living together for three months, Minseok.” Jongdae’s eyes aren’t bright anymore. “Just—it’s fine, okay? Don’t worry about me. Just do your arm exercises and your other calisthenics so you’ll be nice and fit when you leave in the spring.”

“I don’t have to leave?” Minseok tries, offering a little smile.

He doesn’t even get half a smile in return. Jongdae just shakes his head before regarding Minseok with eyes as flat as a shark’s. 

“Yeah, Minseok. You do.”

As if to hasten him out the door, Jongdae personally makes Minseok a set of leather earflaps fixed to a headband, carefully fitting them to curve closely around the holes in the top of Minseok’s head. He designs them so that Minseok’s lengthening hair parts around the flaps, leaving the holes entirely unobstructed. He tests Minseok daily until, wearing the headband with his eyes shut tight, Minseok can identify the direction a sound is coming from within a degree or two of accuracy, turning his entire head in lieu of swiveling his now-static ears.

Zitao brings Sehun by early one morning with a wagonload of non-perishable food, blankets, and clothing in Minseok’s size.

“And did you get the rucksack?” Jongdae asks.

Sehun nods, holding up the rugged canvas backpack with a soft wag of his tail and a sad glance over at Minseok. 

Jongdae tries it on, adjusting the straps until he’s satisfied, then takes it off again and sets it in the corner.

“Thank you,” he says, hugging both of them. 

Minseok looks on awkwardly, unsure what to say. He supposes he should be grateful for the help but instead he’s bitter at being kicked out of the only place he’s ever stayed in for more than a week. Even if Jongdae resents having Minseok in his space, it’s still the closest thing he’s had to a home since he was a kitten.

“You’re coming today, right, Dae-hyung?” Sehun asks, tail wagging more strongly, the morose air pushed aside slightly by the scent of the puppy’s hope. “Both of you?”

Jongdae only shrugs, causing Sehun’s face to fall.

“Coming where?” Minseok asks, immediately gratified when Sehun’s face lights up and his tail wags incessantly.

“Oh, to the Homes for Hybrids fundraiser! It’s this big party in this fancy building and it’s so much fun, it’s where I met TaoTao because Myeon-hyung donates a bunch of my old things every year but this year I told him to buy some smaller clothes because I said not everyone’s as tall as me and he laughed but bought them anyway but instead of bringing them to the donation place we brought them all right to the treehouse instead and—”

“What Sehun means to say is that there is an event tonight where hybrids can get a free all-you-can-eat buffet if they’re willing to tolerate strangers pinching their cheeks and patting their ears without asking—oh.” Zitao frowns. “DaeDae, I’m not sure they’d let your pretty kitty in without a suit—they’ll think he’s a human.

“He would fit in one of Myeon-hyung’s suits,” Sehun says, tail whipping behind him and reeking of excitement.

Zitao eyes Minseok up and down. “He probably would,” he agrees. “And since he’s on the organization committee, he’ll be busy outside the house all day—you could absolutely come over and play dress-up.”

All three of the other hybrids watch Minseok expectantly, the raccoon and pup with hope and excitement and Jongdae with wariness and suspicion.

Minseok would love to leave the treehouse he’s been trapped in for months. He’d love to wear a fancy-ass suit, probably get to take a proper shower, to stuff his face with the kind of tiny little fancy snacks that tend to be served at these rich human shindigs.

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” he demurs.

“It wouldn’t be trouble—it would be fun!”

Minseok is a little worried Sehun is going to wag his puffy tail right off. It’s impossible not to smile at the enthusiastic pup, but Minseok still gives a shake of his head.

“I don’t think Jongdae wants us to go,” he says, trying to read the scents and body language coming from the fox. “Or maybe he’d prefer I stay here while he enjoys a night out with his friends?”

Now Jongdae is giving Minseok an odd look, all the scents stirred up by Sehun’s tail and basically useless. Zitao is giving Minseok an odd look, too. Then he directs his gaze to Jongdae and his face distorts further.

“Yeah, okay, I don’t know what’s going on with you two but you’ve both obviously been cooped up in here for far too long,” the raccoon declares. “Get dressed—we’re all going, even if I have to carry one of you over each of my shoulders.” 

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

Zitao is officially disowned as Jongdae’s best friend. He laughs when Jongdae tells him this through a growl but Jongdae’s dead serious. Or maybe just dead, since Zitao is evidently determined to kill him. Why else would he take the far-too-handsome tomcat that Jongdae loves (but can never have) and dress him up in a slightly-oversized three-piece suit that emphasizes his shoulders, now nicely rounded with restored muscle after months of proper food—proper  _ meat— _ and boredom-induced exercise?

He might buy the excuse that it’s just to get him/them into the Homes for Hybrids event except that then the raccoon decides  _ everyone’s _ eyes need to be ringed like his, smudging kohl over four sets of eyelids. As if Minseok’s eyes needed any help being absolutely captivating.

“DaeDae, are you gonna play Oliver Twist again this year or do you want to borrow something nice from Myeon as well? You could be a success story that Minseok adopted last year.”

“Oh, that’d be fun!” Sehun crows, clapping his hands in time with his rapidly-wagging tail. “I have so many pretty collars from when Myeon-hyung’s taken me to fancy events—you could borrow one and look so stylish!”

Minseok’s confident scent riffles with unease. “Ah, that’s nice of you, Sehun, but I don’t think Jongdae wants to pretend to be my hybrid.”

“Are you kidding?” Zitao laughs. “He’s wanted to belong to you since he first laid eyes on you. C’mon, DaeDae—let’s make you over to be the pampered puppy you never thought you’d be.”

“I’m not a puppy,” Jongdae protests as he’s led into the walk-in closet that’s bigger than the entire treehouse. 

“They don’t know that—just have Minseok tell people you’re a shiba inu—humans won’t be able to tell the difference and everyone loves shibe.”

“Ohmigod, Dae-hyung—make the doge face!”

“That meme is so dead—even I know that and I have to surf the internet at the library.” Jongdae rolls his eyes. 

Sehun squeals. “Ohmigod that was  _ perfect!” _

Minseok suppresses a giggle but Jongdae can smell his mirth, the first expression of amusement he’s seen from his mate in months. So Jongdae swallows his own pithiness and lets the puppy and raccoon dress him up as a rich man’s furry fucktoy for Minseok’s entertainment.

God, Jongdae is  _ stupid _ whipped. All the more reason why he’s grateful that a sturdy pack and a bunch of well-made, non-Sehun-sized clothing is waiting back at the treehouse. This is one night. One night, and a handful of weeks before spring thaws everything that’s been frozen for so long. Jongdae can do this. He can.

He does, hanging adoringly from Minseok’s arm, wagging his tail like the dog he is, giving long, adulating looks to the guy that will forever be his master whether Jongdae wears a collar or not. And Minseok smiles and coos at him indulgently, cradling a cheek in a gentle hand, pressing fond kisses to his forehead, petting Jongdae’s ears.

The entire time, Minseok’s pungent sorrow and regret sting into Jongdae’s nose. If Jongdae hadn’t been looking at the guy smiling brightly back at him, he’d swear the scent belonged to someone who was crying.

Jongdae feels like crying more than a little bit, himself.

“Mister Kim Minseok?” someone asks with a bow at Minseok’s elbow. 

“Er, yes?” Minseok answers, smelling as wary as Jongdae feels. 

“Your brother, Mister Kim Junmyeon, sends his apologies for not getting this to you sooner.” 

The woman, evidently an employee of the venue the charity event is held in, extends two hands toward Minseok to offer him a hotel keycard envelope. Returning the bow, Minseok accepts it with both hands, flipping it open to reveal a room number inked onto the paper.

“Just show the keycard to our transportation attendant and they’ll call a complimentary shuttle when you’re ready to retire for the evening. And Mister Kim Junmyeon wanted me to be sure and tell you the hotel also offers complimentary shuttle service to the park in the morning—he wanted you to still be able to enjoy your daily jog.”

“Thank you,” Minseok says with a smile and a bow before turning to Jongdae and ruffling his ears. “I guess all my little pup’s dreams are coming true tonight,” he leers.

The salacious wink is extra-creepy when accompanied by a thick wave of renewed sadness.

They stay long enough to greet Yixing, looking dashing on the arm of his own rich mistress, scent lighting up with mirth at the sight of his former patient and the “shiba.”

“Ooh, our little pets seem to like each other,” the woman purrs, resting a hand on Minseok’s arm. “Have your personal assistant call mine—we’ll set up a little playdate for them, drink a little wine, watch their antics and… see what happens.”

“Sounds delightful,” Minseok purrs back, reeking of so much disgust that Jongdae and Yixing studiously avoid eye contact so as not to burst into laughter.

After making many more empty promises to many more people, Minseok finally succeeds in getting them out of the event, onto a shuttle, and into a hotel room fancier than anything Jongdae could ever even imagine. He’s gawping at the lux decor, marveling at the fact that their so-called room is really three rooms—the sleeping area, sitting area, and kitchenette, not to mention a bathroom bigger than Junmyeon’s huge-ass closet.

But Minseok hardly seems to notice their surroundings, untying his bowtie with practiced ease and flinging it onto the glass-topped coffee table.

“Sixteen people, Jongdae,” he huffs. “Sixteen people! Is watching hybrids fuck and then joining in really that popular a pasttime? Is poor Sehunnie passed around like a joint at a college party?”

“I’m sure watching hybrids ‘play’ is indeed popular—humans are gross and especially rich humans that can buy and sell other beings like used cars. But Sehun says Junmyeon always told people that he prefers to play by himself, and if he’s pressed he distracts them with some ramble about whether his right hand or left hand is better for certain things.”

Minseok snorts, the scent of his relief filling the room. “Well, at least our favorite puppy is treated well. I’m so glad he and Tao are doing well together.”

Jongdae forces a smile, biting back an acerbic comment about how it’s surprising to hear such sentiment from a cat who believes other people exist to be used.

But Minseok sighs. “I can smell how much you hate me right now, Jongdae. I’m sorry, okay? I know you didn’t even want to come tonight but they were so enthusiastic. And they obviously thought they were doing us some kind of favor with this suite—it seemed rude to refuse.”

He smiles at Jongdae sadly. “Besides, it’s nice to see at least one of your dreams come true. I’ll just make myself unobtrusive over at the kitchenette island or something—just live it up as if I’m not even here.”

That last sentence is accompanied by a thick puff of sorrowful scent as Minseok turns away.

“I don’t hate you,” Jongdae says softly. “I don’t even dislike you.”

Minseok huffs, staring at the floor as he carefully removes his borrowed finery. “Yeah yeah, I get it. King of the assholes. I know. But I will genuinely treasure my memories of tonight, even though I feel bad that you hated it. You just… You look really good—oppressive collar aside—and it was nice to pretend for a while. It’ll be a beautiful fantasy to torture myself with once I’m back on the streets.”

“You’re not going back on the streets,” Jongdae says.

The tomcat’s head pops up, brow furrowed. “But the backpack—all the new clothes? The blankets?”

“Those are for me, you idiot,” Jongdae states. “How’m I gonna kick my mate to the curb? I fucking can’t, and you know it. I still have to take care of you, don’t I? So don’t worry your pretty little head—Tao promised to look in on you, make sure you’re doing alright. Sehun will make sure you’re well fed, especially in the winter. You’ll be just fine, so quit moping around and reeking like you’re at a fucking funeral.”

Frozen, Minseok blinks at him, mouth opening and shutting like a goldfish twice before he manages to get any words out.

“You think I’m sad because I expected to have to sleep in alleys again? You think I should  _ quit moping _ because you’ve decided to sleep in alleys instead? Oh, fuck you, Jongdae. Just—just fuck you.”

He continues to methodically remove the formalwear, movements sharp and angry but scent drenched in grief.

“No,” Jongdae says, voice snapping out like lightning. “Just  _ no. _ You do not get to smell like that—you do not get to guilt trip me after I’ve made arrangements to give up my entire fucking life so you can be happy. Fuck me? Fuck  _ you, _ ‘Kim’ Minseok. I have done  _ everything _ I fucking could for you and all you do is throw it back in my face—it’s just never enough for you. What more do you fucking want from me?” 

“I want  _ you, _ Jongdae!” Minseok growls, reeking of exasperation now along with bereavement. “But don’t do me any favors. It’s not going to matter if you leave or if you kick me out—the end result is the fucking same.”

“But you can’t stand me,” Jongdae says, feeling his eyebrows try to bridge above his nose. “Why do you smell like I’m breaking your fucking heart right now?”

“Because you fucking  _ are _ , you ass!” Minseok hisses. “You’re the one that hates  _ me. _ And I deserve it, okay? I know that. But you don’t have to be so fucking  _ cruel _ with this martyr shit. I’ll just go, okay? You were right that I was stubbornly wasting my resources before. I won’t sleep in alleys, I’ll masquerade as a human, pick pockets, seduce businessmen, lonely rich housewives, sleep in mansions or in fancy hotels like this one again. You don’t have to rake yourself over the coals about me being taken care of, okay? I’ll be fine. You can keep your pretty little life.”

Now devoid of any clothing, Minseok throws the hotel-provided bathrobe around his body and stomps into the kitchenette, sinking down behind the counter that serves as a bar. He doesn’t say anything else, but for the first time since the night Jongdae brought his broken little mate to the treehouse, Jongdae can smell the tomcat’s tears.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

Minseok will  _ not _ give that fucking fox the satisfaction of hearing him sob. He can’t control his betraying scent but he  _ will _ control this. He tips his head back against the wall to keep any tears from spilling, inhaling slowly through his slightly-parted lips in a futile effort to avoid breathing in the stench of despondency but the air is too thick with it. He can taste it on the back of his tongue, metallic and bitter, rather like blood. Fitting.

He ignores Jongdae when the fox pads into the kitchen and hunkers down beside him.

“Come here.” 

An arm wraps around Minseok’s shoulders, pulling him against Jongdae’s chest. Minseok considers resisting but doesn’t have the strength. All the fight has gone out of him. Only numbness is left.

“My fierce little tomcat.” 

Jongdae’s palm rubs up and down Minseok’s shoulder for a moment, then the fox does something he’s never done before. Something Minseok wouldn’t ordinarily tolerate, except he’s too numb to defend himself. He’s tired of fighting, tired of  _ feeling, _ so when Jongdae’s fingers work gently into his hair, massage his scalp, rub the edges of his unprotected ear canals, Minseok does nothing.

He does nothing for a long time. Jongdae keeps rubbing his head for just as long. No—not rubbing,  _ petting. _ A fox is petting Minseok, and he’s just allowing it. A filthy canine, a dumb little dog, the idiot Minseok was stupid enough to fall in love with,  _ Jongdae _ is petting Minseok like a cat, rubbing the base of his ears, stroking his hair nicely along the direction of growth, never going against the grain or carelessly dipping a fingertip into an ear.

Minseok allows this. He might even enjoy it, one last little scrap of warm affection to cling to in his memory when his world is once again empty and cold.

“That’s it, Min. Just relax, my precious pet.”

Minseok isn’t anyone’s pet. He’d claw the fox’s stupid umber eyes out but he doesn’t have claws anymore. So he lets the fox shift them around on the cold tile floor until he’s basically in Jongdae’s lap, straddling his hips, arms trapped between their chests, face turned stubbornly away, unfocused eyes gazing dully at the base of the cabinetry.

Jongdae keeps petting him. Minseok continues to allow it. 

It might be for minutes; it might be for hours. It’s long enough for his ass to go numb, for his eyes to fall closed, for him to rest more of his weight against Jongdae’s chest. The fox’s chest is always so warm, and the only time Minseok’s ever been pressed against it, it’d been to sleep. He’s drowsy now, too, but still awake, still aware of the firm, gentle fingers moving rhythmically against his scalp.

His own fingers move rhythmically, too, little twitches and flickers, first the right hand, then the left. It’s soothing, so he keeps doing it, right hand, then left, in time with his own breathing.

Not until Jongdae’s scent shifts toward contentment and he makes a pleased little rumble in his throat does Minseok realize his own throat has been rumbling, too. Suddenly shy, Minseok makes a weak attempt to pull away, regain his dignity, but Jongdae makes a low soothing sound, rubbing his scalp—petting the base of his ears—a little more firmly. 

“Stay with me, Min,” Jongdae murmurs. “Please just relax. Let me hold you. Stay right here with me.”

Jongdae smells like the spicy musk of fox but also warmth and affection and safety. His fingers feel good enough against Minseok’s scalp that a numb ass seems a small price to pay. So Minseok stays, fingers reflexively fluttering on one hand, then the other, alternately pressing his knuckles against Jongdae’s warm chest. One hand, then the other. Softly, slowly, again and again.

One hand, then the other, in rhythm with his purrs.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

When Jongdae wakes up it’s because his bladder is about to burst. Which could be because someone’s basically laying on it. Or rather, leaning against it, slack weight pinning Jongdae upright against a wall. 

His ass is so numb Jongdae can’t even feel his dick anymore. His legs are numb, too, but his left knee is throbbing in protest of being wedged into the trough between cabinet doors. His neck is so kinked that lifting his head to a more normal position makes tears prick the corners of his eyes. 

And Jongdae starts to laugh.

“What’s funny?” Minseok mumbles, whimpering when his own body makes its protests known.

“I don’t regret it,” Jongdae chokes out between chuckles. “But we’re in the fanciest hotel in town and we slept on the fucking floor. Not even the luxurious rugs! The fucking kitchen tiles.”

Minseok also starts chuckling between winces, leaning back and trying to straighten up. “Luxurious kitchen tiles, though—they’re probably marble or travertine or some other fancy word for rock.”

“Too bad luxurious doesn’t mean comfortable.”

“Too bad,” Minseok agrees, using the countertop to pull himself to his feet, hissing in discomfort all the while. “It’s still dark outside, though, Dae. You could enjoy a few more hours in the actually comfortable bed.”

Stifling some indignant growls of his own, Jongdae hauls himself to his feet beside the tomcat he adores. “Only if you’re in it with me,” he says, offering his beautiful, stubborn mate a soft little smile.

Minseok’s answering smile is equally soft and more than a little shy, scent blooming with interest quickly tempered. “I’d like that,” he admits.

Jongdae can’t resist leaning in to steal a tiny little kiss. His heart sings when Minseok returns it, causing the tomcat to burst into self-conscious laughter following his next inhalation.

They continue to laugh at themselves and each other as they hobble across the room to the en suite, taking turns to empty their bladders before washing the smudged makeup off their faces. They brush their teeth with the nice, new hotel-provided toothbrushes that Jongdae totally intends to take home with them. He also plans to swipe all the tiny little bottles of “Happy Hybrid” brand toiletries he finds in a basket along with a bouquet of bone-shaped cookies.

“They might be good?” Minseok tries, chuckling at Jongdae’s disdainfully-curled lip.

“Let’s find out later,” Jongdae dismisses, taking Minseok’s hand and tugging him toward the massive bed piled high with more pillows than six people could conceivably need.

The pair of them fling most of them to the floor and burrow beneath the covers together, shedding the bathrobes in the process before meeting mouth to mouth, skin to skin.

“Dae,” Minseok moans against his mouth. “Please tell me you meant what you said earlier.”

“What did I say earlier?” Jongdae asks, gliding his palm down Minseok’s back and over his petite little ass before curving his hand to hike his mate’s thigh up over his own, bringing their groins into more direct contact.

“That you want me to stay with you—Ah!”

In this position Minseok’s body is open to him and Jongdae can’t resist trailing his fingers back up along the underside of the thigh draped over his hip, smiling into the kiss when his fingertips encounter soft skin that puckers beneath his touch.

“Fuck, yes—Minseok, please stay with me. I only want this if you want  _ me.” _

“I don’t want a single thing more,” Minseok breathes, shifting to press back against Jongdae’s exploring fingers. “I want you—wanna stay with you.”

Jongdae lets loose a few of Tao’s favorite Mandarin curses, forcing himself to pull away from his tomcat—his fucking mate!—long enough to paw through the drawers of the end table and come up with a bottle of lube. They share an eye roll at the brand name—Man’s Best Friend, complete with winking puppy logo—but then Jongdae remembers that he’s got his hot and ready  _ mate _ in a fancy hotel bed and quickly gets to work with kisses and caresses and gentle insertion of one lubed finger, then another, then a third despite Minseok’s impatient protests.

“It’s been a while for both of us,” Jongdae murmurs against hissing lips. “Let me give you my fingers for a while to prolong the experience we’ve waited so long for, mmm?”

Minseok huffs, aroused scent tinted with fondness and amusement. “Fine—pleasure me, pet.”

“You’re  _ my _ pet,” Jongdae counters, crooking his fingers to make Minseok gasp. “You’re my sweet little kitten, finally tame enough to sit in my lap.”

“Sit on this,” Minseok gestures, then sucks in a sharp breath as Jongdae presses inside him again.

Chuckling, Jongdae sucks on the suggested finger, pulling a moan out of Minseok along with a rush of lusty scent. Minseok rocks against him, rolling his hips as Jongdae pets his fierce little tomcat inside with one hand and outside with the other.

“If you want me to come on your dick instead of your fingers, then fucking get it in me already.”

“If you insist,” Jongdae smiles, rolling Minseok into their usual sleeping position and lining himself up.

Minseok gasps as Jongdae slides inside him, the breathy sound blending with Jongdae’s sigh of pleasure.

“You alright?” Jongdae murmurs into Minseok’s neck.

“I will be if you fucking move.”

Jongdae chuckles, shifting his hips back and then forward again, dragging another soft sound from the feline.

“Yes, little kitty. Purr for me again.”

Minseok growls a little instead but thrusts his hips back, hissing when his truncated tailbone hits Jongdae’s pelvis.

“Shh, precious pet. Don’t hurt yourself. Let me make you feel good.”

He drives into Minseok a little more firmly, mindful not to impact his kitty’s cute little ass with any force.

A frustrated groan rumbles through Minseok’s chest. “Next time I’m fucking you.”

Jongdae hums his amusement into Minseok’s shoulder. 

“Yeah?” 

He slides his hand down Minseok’s torso slowly, enjoying the way his stomach muscles flinch and twitch away from the deliberate tickle. His fingers brush teasingly through Min’s happy trail, following it down until they wrap around their intended prize. Min’s hiss melts into a moan as Jongdae works his wrist, sliding over sensitive skin. 

“My pretty kitty wants to fuck me? Pound this perfect cock into my tight little ass?”

Minseok’s cock kicks as he moans.

“Gonna drill you,” he growls. “Gonna— _ shit— _ gonna make you howl.”

“Mmm, can’t wait,” Jongdae rumbles, coordinating the timing of his fucking and stroking to keep Minseok always on the edge of overstimulated. “But foxes don’t howl very often. We prefer to  _ scream.” _

The noise this declaration pulls out of the feline can only be described as a yowl. 

“Oh, fuck, Dae,” Minseok pants. “Fuck, gonna fuck you—ah—Dae, fuck  _ me.” _

With a wicked chuckle, Jongdae obeys, sliding a hand between their bodies to protect the base of Minseok’s spine as he thrusts more vigorously, works Min’s cock more quickly, squeezes a little harder. Minseok clenches his ass in return, tighter and tighter as the hisses and yowls climb toward a crescendo. 

Minseok reaches an arm up over his head, arching his back and grabbing a fistful of Jongdae’s silky russet hair. He tugs, pulling the softest scream from Jongdae who doesn’t want to deafen the guy trying to kill him. Instead he thrusts slowly and deeply into Minseok’s tight heat, working Min’s cock with focused intensity. It feels fucking fantastic when Minseok clenches hard, especially since it’s accompanied by a filthy moan and a full-body shudder as hot spend pulses into Jongdae’s fist.

He can’t help pulsing his own pleasure into his pretty kitty seconds later. 

Jongdae sets his teeth against Minseok’s shoulder, sealing his lips against the soft skin to muffle his screams of bliss. He glories in the feeling of holding his perfect mate, of making Minseok feel good, of how satisfying it feels to fill him up, to leave his claim where only he’s allowed to be.

He’s so fucking lucky to finally have his Minseok, his pretty kitty, his precious pet enthusiastically in his arms. So lucky to be holding him, to be pleasuring him, to be taking care of his neglected body and reticent soul.

“My Dae,” Minseok mumbles, a verbal caress just above a whisper. “My loyal little fox.”

Jongdae is so fucking lucky to finally belong to his love.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

Minseok has woken up in Jongdae’s arms every morning for over four months but this is the first morning he’s genuinely happy to be there. Happy enough to roll over and kiss his handsome fox awake, watch lips that are almost smiling in sleep curve into an actual smile as he rouses.

Jongdae laughs when Minseok pushes eagerly at his hip, cooperating with the efforts to roll him over into being the little spoon.

“I heard someone wanted to fuck me,” he teases, wrapping his tail around that tiny waist to get it out of the way. “Is that what’s happening first thing this morning?”

“Not  _ someone— _ your mate,” Minseok reminds him. “And what better time than now, in this fancy bed we don’t have to wash?”

“Excellent point,” Jongdae says, canting his hips to thrust his ass back at Minseok. “Proceed, my pretty kitty.”

“My frustrating fox,” Minseok retorts, enjoying the yelp when cold lube contacts sensitive skin. 

“Yes, all yours.”

Jongdae moans delightfully as Minseok fingers him open, groans long and low when he slides inside.

“That’s it,” Minseok murmurs, leaning away from Jongdae’s back so he can watch his dick disappear between those apple-like cheeks. “Yes, little fox—you take your mate so well.”

A wicked grin spreads over Minseok’s face when Jongdae’s moan hitches, more than ready to wreck his fox with his words as well as his body. He rolls his hips slowly at first, both arms wrapped around Jongdae’s torso to keep him close, warmth pressed against warmth.

“You’re staying,” Jongdae insists as Minseok rolls into him over and over. “I’m keeping you. You’re mine. My Minseok—my mate.”

“Your mate,” Minseok agrees. “I tried to be hard but you fucking made me  _ purr.” _ He punctuates this charge with an especially vigorous thrust at a particular angle, grinning in retribution at the resulting yelp. “Do you know how long it’s been since I purred in front of anyone, you obnoxious fox?”

Another thrust, another yelp that ends in laughter. 

“Years?” Jongdae guesses.

“Years,” Minseok confirms. “Do you know how long it’s been since I sat in anyone’s lap? Not a mark, not for a con, but for  _ real?” _

The yelp dissolving into laughter is quickly becoming one of Minseok’s favorite sounds. “Were you an actual kitten?”

“Probably—I can’t even fucking remember!” 

He delivers three well-aimed thrusts in a row, then moves a hand to fist Jongdae’s cock while the other arm keeps that radiator of a torso pinned against Minseok’s chest.

“You made me purr in your lap, you russet rapscallion,” Minseok growls. “You made me purr in your lap and I fucking  _ liked it.” _

Jongdae’s laughing around his moans but Minseok fights his own smile for a moment longer.

“You made me purr in your fucking lap, had me kneading your stupid space-heater chest. Then you made me come so hard I forgot my own fucking name and could only babble yours.”

The fox’s laughter fills his ears as the heady scent of his amusement makes Minseok giddy, almost intoxicated.

“You, my infuriating little fox, are fucking  _ stuck _ with me now.”

“Lucky me,” Jongdae moans as Minseok strokes his cock a little faster, rocks into him a little harder.

“Lucky you,” Minseok agrees. “Lucky enough to take your mate’s cock, get filled with your mate’s come.”

“Fuck yeah, fill me, pretty kitty.” 

Jongdae wraps his own hand around Minseok’s, guiding him into long, firm strokes rather than short, fast ones. Minseok obligingly takes up the new rhythm, coordinating his thrusts to match.

“Fuck, yes, Minseok, my mate—fuck your fox just like that. Oh— _ oh— _ yes, kitten, right fucking there.” 

“My fox,” Minseok agrees with a growl as he stays the course. “Gonna make my fox scream for me.”

Six thrusts later Jongdae obliges, screaming repeatedly as he makes a mess of the sheets. The uncanny sound sends shivers down Minseok’s spine that coalesce in his core to come shooting out his dick. He yowls in triumph as he pumps his fox full.

After a moment of panting and twitching, Jongdae rolls over, dislodging Minseok’s cock and making further insult to the sheets. Minseok can ignore it for a while since Jongdae distracts him with deeply claiming kisses and softly possessive murmurs until the drying come on his thighs and the blood refilling his dick become too distracting.

Then he drags his laughing fox into the fancy hotel shower where they can make another mess and immediately wash it away, suds swirling down the drain and away from them like the feelings of bitter resentment they’d carried around for so long.

Having one’s life wrenched in an unanticipated direction absolutely sucks, whether by some asshole with a grudge or some strand of DNA. But cats are adaptable and opportunistic and foxes are clever and daring. A fox and a cat together? 

Damn near unstoppable.

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

Jongdae has worked very hard to make the treehouse homey and he’s proud of how weathertight and cozy it is. That doesn’t mean he’ll ever get tired of staying at hotels, though. Running water is a precious luxury available at even the inexpensive hotels, and there are few things more satisfying than dirtying his mate while scrubbing him clean.

One of those few things is curling up in an oversized bed with his mate, sated and sanitary and somnolent, drowsing against each other while humans do dumb things on the hotel TV. It’s not necessarily the antics of the humans that are so appealing but rather the way his mate, secure and relaxed in Jongdae’s arms, will usually start purring, sometimes while kneading against Jongdae’s chest or thigh. It’s absolutely precious and Jongdae’s heart swells to bursting whenever it happens. 

His heart swells to bursting a lot these days—with love for his mate, the lust he kindles with suggestive glances or provocative words, with pride whenever his adaptable little mate plays the human so well, convincing actual humans to hand over the keys to their financial kingdoms. Like Yixing’s rich mistress, there are a lot of wealthy humans that don’t even notice when random shit gets charged to their credit cards. Or removed from their homes. Or lifted from their shops.

Especially when they’re mesmerized by a pair of big, earnest eyes, a heart-shaped face, an edible throat, a hint of chest.

Nobody gets to actually touch all that but Jongdae, though. Marks can look all they like, but Minseok is Jongdae’s and Jongdae’s alone.

“My mate is so jealous,” Minseok always teases when a mark gets fresh enough to leave their scent on Minseok’s clothing.

“You like it,” Jongdae declares, stripping the offending shirt from Minseok’s torso and pushing him down onto the ridiculous pile of pillows that always seems to grow like moss along the top of hotel beds.

“I like that you like that I’m yours,” the cat says, laughing at his own phrasing.

“And I like that you like being mine,”

“You’re mine, too.”

“I am—next time I’ll try to wait until you’ve lifted the guy’s wallet before I chase him off.” 

“Lucky for you, this experienced thief works faster than your jealousy,” Minseok laughs, tugging the wallet in question out of his slacks. “Maybe if you practice really hard, one day you’ll be half as good.”

“Oh, whatever—I’m already a better thief than you.”

“I once stole a priceless artifact from a museum in London.”

“Oooh, faaancy,” Jongdae coos with false sincerity. “But what have you swiped lately? That’s what the tabloids care about, not ancient accomplishments.”

“You know what I’ve swiped lately,” Minseok huffs. “You were there, you dork.”

“If I was there, we swiped it together. Doesn’t count.”

“Then I guess we’re equal.” 

“No way—I’ve stolen something you never could,” Jongdae asserts with a smile.

“And what exactly is that?” Minseok asks, tugging him down onto the bed.

“I stole your heart.”

Minseok rolls his eyes above a smile. “You did not—I gave it to you.” 

“Well, I gave you mine, too,” Jongdae asserts.

“You did steal my purr, though,” Minseok admits. “I never intended to give that away.”

“There, see?” Jongdae gloats. “I am the better thief.”

Minseok sighs, then gives Jongdae a mischievous smile. “Well. Good thing you’re dumb enough to let a cat exploit you.”

“Cats who exploit me get their purrs stolen,” Jongdae threatens, loving that the air is only filled with playful scents instead of offended ones.

His mate’s sweet smile is entirely unrepentant as he settles himself in Jongdae’s lap, half-closed fists resting against his chest. He arches one angled brow in challenge.

“Steal away.”

# ⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤⪤

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> For those that may need to brace themselves regarding the Assault, Permanent Injury, and Suicidal Thoughts tags:  
Prior to the events of this story, Minseok, a thief, is subjected to involuntary body modification/maiming that prevents him from working and causes permanent ongoing issues. The details are only mentioned twice, once as a bitter memory and another time as a flippant explanation. In the bitter memory, it's mentioned that he briefly considered suicide after being assaulted. At another point, Minseok also threatens to jump/fall from a height rather than be held somewhere against his will.
> 
> But Minseok is much more of a stubborn character than a depressed one, so none of these desperate thoughts or traumatic past events are dwelt on. Hopefully readers will find his journey to a happier place to be cathartic rather than triggering, but I'd rather not ruin anyone's day unnecessarily!


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